Inhibition
by the morrighan
Summary: When the subconscious breaks free it can be quite a revelation.
1. Chapter 1

Inhibition

_Black._

_The darkness surrounded him. He blinked, blinked, trying to see. Spots of color danced in his sight. Tiny points of light swallowed by the overwhelming blackness. Darkness. Despair. He blinked again, squinting. Suddenly seeing as daylight flooded, as his vision cleared. _

_John Sheppard struggled to his feet. Violently he wrenched free of the marines holding him down. Nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. He staggered ahead, spitting blood out of his mouth. Feeling one eye threatening to swell shut. "Moira! Moira!" he rasped. Desperation a raw taste on his tongue, in his throat._

"_Daddy! Daddy!" A little boy came into view. Running towards him. A smaller version of himself. As if his childhood self had come to life._

_John staggered into an awkward run. Fell to his knees, arms open as the little boy flew into them. "Johnny! Thank God! Johnny, where's your mother?" He moved the boy back to see his face._

_Blue eyes met his. Fraught with worry. Widening in shock at his father's battered appearance. "Mommy. Mommy went with bad you, daddy."_

"_She...still..." John felt his heart drop. Met his son's gaze. "Why? How did you..."_

"_Mommy told the bad you she couldn't take me. Mommy said..." The little boy paused. Screwed up his face, thinking furiously. The expression very reminiscent of his father. "She said, she said bad you didn't need me because she was...she had a baby now. Mommy told me to go to daddy. My daddy. Tell him she has baby now. Daddy? Mommy don't have baby now."_

"_Doesn't," he absently corrected. Realizing. He hugged his son to him. "She's pregnant. Pregnant again and has the double ATA...Moira..."_

"_When will mommy come home, daddy? Daddy? Daddy?"_

John woke abruptly. Anguish on his lips as he spoke his wife's name. He sat, heart hammering. He was alone. Sprawled naked in his bed. "Moira!" he harshly called, grasping the blankets. Staring round the dark room. Tensing as he waited, waited for her response. Any response.

Moira Sheppard stepped out of his adjoining room. A pale green nightshirt clung to her curves, making her an almost ghostly figure as the city lights shone upon her. "Sorry, John, I got hungry and we really need to restock the...what's wrong?" She got back into bed, caught his hands. "John? Honey, you...oh no. No. The nightmare?"

"Damn it, Moy! Stop leaving me!" He sighed, fingers closing over hers. "Is there any beer left?"

"Yes. No," she stopped him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll go." She got up, hastened to the little fridge in his room.

John ran a hand through his hair. Rubbed his scruffy jaw. Rubbed his eyes. Tried to relax. He watched her return with a beer, a sandwich.

"Here, sweetie. Eat first. We skipped dinner."

He took the food, the beer. "In bed?" he queried.

She nodded. "Just this once." She slid in next to him again. "The same nightmare?"

John tore into the sandwich, abruptly ravenous. He ate with big bites. Nodded. "Yeah. But new at the end. More."

"Oh." She watched him eat, finding his appetite strangely fascinating. Arousing. He opened the beer, drank deeply. Long swallows. She waited until he had finished the food. Sat drinking the beer. Gaze on nothing as he stared ahead of him. "New? More? More details?" she guessed. Touching his arm. Fingers a gentle caress as she felt his tension.

"Yeah. I didn't realize how hungry I was," he commented. Sighed. "Did you eat?"

"Yes. I just, I just hope I can keep it down." She touched her stomach, the baby bump under the nightshirt. He met her gaze.

"You had trouble before?" he asked.

"Yeah. I threw up that lovely picnic lunch we had. Causing the total extinction of a new species does that to me," she sardonically noted.

He frowned. "Of an enemy we needed to eradicate, Moy. Simple as that."

"Really, John? You're okay with what we did? 'Cause I'm not."

"I'm okay with it," he refuted.

"Really, John? Then why the nightmare?"

"I don't know." He scowled, drank the beer. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you got sick again? Do you need to see Carson?"

"No, I'm fine. The baby's fine!" she flared, as his gaze ran over the baby bump. "So what was new? What details? John?"

He sighed. "You. Somehow convinced the colonel to relinquish John junior to me. You sent him back to me."

"Oh. See? I told you, John. I'll never take your son from you," she soothed, caressing his arm.

He drank deeply, downing the beer in long, gulping swallows. He leaned back to set the empty bottle on the table. Leaned back to her, licking his lips. "Because you were pregnant again. Had the double ATA, unless that was a bluff to free John junior. But you still, you still went with him." An accusation.

She kissed him. Gently pushed him onto his back. Slid over him. "Maybe...to free John junior I would do anything. To send him to you."

"I...I thought these damn nightmares were done. Over," he complained.

"Maybe the subsonic pulse triggered it," she suggested, kissing him. "Oh John..." She nuzzled his neck. Needing to distract herself from the guilt, the horror of what they had done.

"Moira, I won't let it happen. We've got our contingency plans, right?"

"Yes, sweetie." Moira was more intent on kissing up his throat. Tasting the maleness of him. Feeling the stubble as she progressed up to his jaw. Smelling him. The aroma beer lingering on his lips. She circled his ear. Gently nibbled. Shifting her body on his. But John seemed oblivious.

"We won't let this happen," he vowed, staring up at the ceiling. "We won't. We'll take extra measures, Moy. I won't lose John junior. I won't lose you."

"You won't, John," she soothed. Kissing down his throat now. His lips. Slowly down his chest, fingers wandering as her mouth did. Her hair spilling all over him.

"Moira?" He touched her sides, shifting under her as her mouth progressed down his waist. Kissing along his pelvic bone. Fingers on his thighs, then encircling his aroused cock. Stroking. "Ah fuck..." he breathed. "Moira?"

"This will help you sleep, sweetie, I promise. No more nightmares," she purred. Voice soft, low. Sultry. Her fingers danced up and down, up and down the length of him. The increasingly hard length of him.

He shifted, reacting. "Moira...I don't know if I'm really in the mood for...oh baby, oh fuck," he groaned.

She smiled, slid up, out to meet his gaze. "What? John Sheppard's not in the mood for sex? Not even oral sex? Since when?"

He smirked. "Since maybe now, baby. I..." He groaned as her fingers increased their speed. Tightening over him. "Fuck. Moira, you–"

"Easy, sweetie. I can handle this ordnance. You know, John," she began in a serious voice, "I've handled lots of bones. Not many boners before I met you, but the basic concept is the same. The way to excavate, to ease that hardness out, to guide it steadily into place. And this, well, I have to say, colonel, it's quite an impressive specimen. So hard, so big...ooh, look at that, would you? It's coming quite nicely now."

He laughed. "Stop it, Moy! You...oh fuck!" he moaned in surrender, pleasure.

Moira laughed. Slid back under the blankets. "Let me excavate this boner, John. A fine example of a colonel's hard ordnance...ooh, let me clean this impressive specimen." She ran her mouth along his skin.

John groaned in tension, enjoyment, delight as her mouth wetly slid along him. Gently nibbling up towards the head. He jerked, reacting. Balls tightening. Cock hard, so hard now. Pulsing. "Fuck! Oh Moira...Moira," he growled. "Please baby, please! Are you going to oh baby!" His voice fell low, into a guttural growl as he jerked, jerked. As she took him into her mouth suddenly. He shifted, arching, clutching the blankets as she sucked, sucked. Sucked so hard he groaned loudly. She gently bit as he throbbed, throbbed. About to come, helpless. Helpless as her fingers plied between his legs suddenly. Helpless as she ran her mouth abruptly up the length of him to the head. Biting all the way.

"Fuck!" John exclaimed. Loudly. "Oh fuck, fuck! Oh God! Moira, Moira, Moira!" he growled, flinging the blankets back to see her as her teeth scraped and bit all along him. He groaned in ecstasy, rushing between pleasure and pain and back again. Spasms rocked him, so rigid, spilling into such dire need he thought he'd die right there. She captured the head, sucked and bit suddenly. His sound was half groan, half cry. Body writhing, yielding. Thrusting as he came wildly. She freed him, startled by the violent coming. Caught him in her hands as he jerked, sat and fell back. Ejaculating with wild thrusts as the orgasm slammed into him.

Moira squeezed, stroking faster and faster, unable to let go. Tangling his jerking cock in her nightshirt as he spurted, spurted. "John!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he stuttered, strained. Released a feral growl as he thrust hard, hard, caught in her hands, in her nightshirt, not caring as he spurted once more. He fell back, breath ragged. Tears in his eyes as the erotic pleasure flooded him.

Breathless, speechless he watched Moira's startled, wide-eyed gaze as she finally freed him. As she slid out of the blankets, holding out her nightshirt. It was heavily stained by his semen. She made a disgusted face, scrambled off the bed and hastened to the dresser. She pulled out another nightshirt and entered the bathroom. "Moira," he croaked. So sated he felt dizzy. Almost giddy with the waves of sexual pleasure, satisfaction.

Moira emerged, in a clean lilac nightshirt. Wiping her now cleans hand on it. She returned to the bed, face flushed. Shifting as her body reacted vividly to his. To his lust. His happiness. His sheer exuberance. "Better, sweetie?" she asked, voice calm. She reclined on her back.

He smiled. "Much."

"Go to sleep, then." She lightly kissed him. Turned away from him. Feeling hot. Astounded at her boldness. At the roughness although he had really enjoyed that. At the hot, salty taste of him in her mouth although she had rinsed out her mouth repeatedly. At the hard, engorged feel of him in her hands, wild and like a separate creature almost. Something to tame. To control.

John could smell her arousal. Could taste it on the air almost. Could only imagine how ripe and wet she was, but he couldn't do anything about it at the moment. Not with his cock anyway. He rolled to spoon against her. Hand on her hip, tugging at the nightshirt. "Moira...my Moira. My God...Moira...you...you baby, you took me all the fucking way this time. You..."

"Go to sleep, John. You always fall asleep after sex," she chided. Embarrassed but pleased she had impressed him.

"Moira." He kissed her cheek. Ran his hand up under the nightshirt. Between her legs. Made a sound feeling her moist, hot. "Oh baby, baby, let me return the–"

"No! I want to sleep, John! You can do me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But you need it now, baby. I can feel it. I can't let all that lush sweetness go to waste, now can I?" he teased into her ear. Fingers stroking, sliding stubbornly to find entrance but she caught his hand. Pulled it up to her waist.

"No, John! Go to sleep, sweetie. Please."

"I love you, Moira," he said quietly. Kissing her cheek. His breath tickled her ear. His scruff an erotic abrasion along her skin. His lips soft, so soft.

"Then go to sleep, sweetie." She closed her eyes, feeling every inch of him pressed against her. Felt her own desire, her need but denied both. Refusing to lose herself in sex. Refusing to drown in his love, his passion, as much as she wanted to do both.

John settled, relenting. His hand resting on the baby bump. He kissed her cheek again. "Okay, sweetheart. That was amazing. Fucking unbelievable, baby. I'm going to give you such a climax you'll...no, multiple. Multiple climaxes that you will beg me to–"

"Ssh, John. Sleep now. Please," she added. Staring at the darkness. Her hand on his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

Inhibition2

Moira woke. Tangled in nightmarish images of the sub-Wraith. Their bodies littering the ground after the reverse scan that had effectively killed them. Their loud, chittering noises echoing in her ears. Screeches and screams until she had stopped them. All of them. She sat free of John's arms. He rolled onto his back, gently snoring. Fast asleep. She smiled, staring at him. Distracted by the handsome man in bed with her. His rakish appearance. Wild hair, scruffy jaw. Lips so kissable. Long eyelashes. She kissed him. Slipped out of the bed to start the day.

"Moira! Are you okay?"

She turned, nearly dropping the tray in her hands as Evan Lorne approached her. "Fine. Let's sit." She led him to a table.

"I mean, the way the colonel was acting," Evan explained as they sat at a table across from each other. "I can't believe he dragged you along on that horrible mission."

She frowned. "He didn't drag me, Evan. He needed my expertise."

"And you gave it to him?"

She eyed the tray full of food. Suddenly no longer hungry. "Yes."

"It's not your fault, Moira. Still...to leave you alone in that Jumper...anything could have happened to you! What the hell was he thinking?"

"No." She poured syrup on her pancakes.

"No? What does that mean, no?" Evan persisted, puzzled by her tone, her words. "Moira? His reckless endangerment of you was completely unaccept–"

"Stop right there!" She glared at him, setting down the syrup bottle. "How could you even suggest that? Even think that of him?" She paused, realizing the reason for John's questions. "You! You accused him of being reckless with my safety?"

"Yes! He left you, Moira!" Evan argued, his anger responding to hers. "Again! He is always leaving you, isn't he? First seriously wounded on Pleistocene Park, now this! He left you all alone out there!"

"In the safest place on that mission! How could you ever doubt for a second that John wouldn't make damn sure I was safe?"

"How? You shouldn't have been on that mission in the first place! Don't tell me you agreed with him! I know you! You can't agree with what we did! The entire extermination of a species! An entire species, Moira! Gone! Are you telling me you agreed with that?"

"No. Not at first," she admitted.

"At first? Not at all! Moira, you can't have–"

"John did what he had to do, Evan! You saw the rate at which they were evolving! Progressing! The surge in their population! In their intelligence! You felt the subsonic pulse wave firsthand! Besides, I...I did worse. Far worse than any of you! I was safe in the Jumper! Completely safe. But when that pulse wave started...I...I did the unthinkable! But I had no choice, Evan! To protect my baby! I had to–"

"That's one thing, Moira, and I can understand that," he reasoned. "But the total annihilation of a species! Even if they were Wraith or half Wraith? Do we have that right? Does anyone? That goes against everything you believe! Everything I believe!"

"We, we did what we had to do," she stated, but the words sounded lame even to her.

"And that's it? You'll let your love for him blind you to his callous disregard for you, for your baby, for your safety? For the life of–"

"Stop!" She stood. "Don't you ever say that! Ever! Don't you ever question John like that! Don't ever question John's regard for me! Or for our baby! Don't ever question his military decisions! Do you have any idea what pressure he is under every day? Every fucking day? To make decisions like that? I feel terrible for what I did back there! It makes me sick to think of it! Sick! I'm a monster, Evan, a monster of my own making! But I had to defend my baby and myself! I had to defend John and all of you! All of that precious life on that planet from some abomination that would have destroyed everything! And John...my God, John has to deal with all of that every day! On every mission, in every situation! To make the hard decisions while you have the luxury of debating ethics and morality! Think about that, Evan! The next time you have a moral qualm while our lives hang in the balance and we have no..."

Moira stopped. Feeling the silence. Feeling all eyes on her. She turned suddenly to see everyone staring at her. Frozen in place. To see John standing. Calmly watching her. Listening to her every word. Handsome face serious. Such warmth in his brilliant green eyes she swallowed, turned back to Evan who was staring at her as well. His blue eyes full of surprise, confusion. "Um...just think about what I said..." she advised softly. Sat down and began to eat her breakfast while a blush colored her face.

"Which part?" Evan asked, still stunned by the violent outpouring of words, emotion. "I was concerned, is all. About you, Moira. You." He stood. "Guess I didn't have to be, though, huh?"

Moira felt him leave. Heard conversations resume around her. Wished she could just be swallowed up by a hole in the floor. Instead she nervously stabbed her pancake with her fork. She glanced up as John joined her. Plate loaded with food.

"Caramel?" he asked quietly.

She stared at her plate, feeling the heat of her blush on her face. "Yes. Um, um, look, John...I...um..." she stammered.

"How is it that I am more in love with you every day?" he pondered, watching her push the pieces of pancake around the plate. The sea of caramel spreading, spreading.

"Um, look, John...I...what?" She met his gaze. Stared at the passion, the love. Like a wave washing over her. Shielding her.

He smiled. "Um? How can that be, Moy? Last night...now this morning. If I wasn't already married to you I'd propose on the spot."

"Stop teasing me," she scolded. Took a bite of pancake.

He ate, watching her. Making certain she was eating properly. Enamored by her passionate defense of him. Worried over the guilt she felt over what had happened. What they had done. What she had done. "I'm serious, Moira. My Moira."

"You...you had an argument with Evan?"

"Yes. I wish you'd answer my question, sweetheart."

"Shut up, John."

He smiled. "You are so fucking beautiful when you are flustered, Moira. Last night. Now this morning. Makes me want you. All to myself. In our bed. Save that caramel sauce."

"Hilarious, John. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what, Moira?" He waited but she was silent. Finished her breakfast. All the while not looking at him, unable to meet his gaze. "Moira? You're even more desirable when you are shy. Makes me want to seduce you slowly. Kiss by kiss. From your luscious lips all the way down to your sweet, sweet center," he intoned slowly. Voice low. Possessive.

She shifted on the chair. Reacting. "Stop it, John."

"No. I'm going to savor every luscious part of you, Moira. The things I can do with my tongue alone will have you melting in a pool beneath me."

"John!" she warned, voice taut with desire, annoyance.

He smiled. "You will come exquisitely, Moira. So sweet and slow until that headlong rush into a series of climaxes, over and over as I fill every lush, pulsing inch of you."

"John Sheppard!" she dropped her fork, met his hot, sensual gaze. He smiled slowly, raised his brow. Licked his lips. Inviting her. Commanding her. "Damn it," she muttered, gaze locked onto his wet lower lip. Wanting. Wanting so badly now she could have wept.

"Shall we, sweetheart?" He stood. Waited. Gaze wandering over her body. Her curves beneath the heavy sweater. Could imagine her vivid reactions to his wooing. Her sweet surrender to him.

Moira sighed. Stood. Briskly walked away from him. He smiled, following, eyes on her swinging loose hair. On her rear as it peeked out underneath the heavy sweater. "I don't want to talk about it, John!" she remonstrated once they were in the hallway.

"Okay, Moira," he amiably agreed.

"I'm serious, John!" she argued, as if he had objected. "Just don't! Don't! Evan was right, you know. What we did was wrong! Horrible! What I did was unforgivable! I know it's your job, your responsibility. I understand that. And I saw the grim necessity of it, but it doesn't make it

right! It makes me sick, John! Sick!" She entered their room, whirled as he followed, doors closing behind him. "I can't sleep at night! How can you? How can any of us? It's affecting all of us, John! This wholesale slaughter!"

"It's war, Moira. Plain and simple," he said.

"Simple? It's not simple! Not at all!" Tears glittered in her eyes. Tears of anger. Of pain. She stepped to him. Hit his chest. "I hate you! I hate you, John! For making me help you do that! For giving me no choice! None! For placing me in that position where I had no choice but to kill them! To defend our baby! I hate you! I hate you!" she flared, pummeling his chest now. Tears falling as she hit him, hit him. A strange kind of exorcism of her own guilt.

John was silent. Letting her hit him, blame him. Accepting it, welcoming it. Letting her release all the horror, the guilt, the pain. He caught her wrists gently, stopping her. "I know. I am sorry, Moira. But the decision is simple. To defend our baby. To defend you. It's not even a decision, Moira. It's instinct. Plain and simple."

She paused, meeting his serious gaze. Wrists caught in his hands. Grasp gentle but firm. "Defending is one thing, but slaughter...slaughtering an entire–"

"War," he repeated. Pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "Moira." He kissed her again. "I don't really care, sweetheart. As long as you are safe, our baby is safe." He ran his mouth down her throat. "I want to bring you, Moy. I want you weeping with pleasure now. I can take it all away, baby, all of it."

"John!" She pushed back from him. "You have to care!"

"Ssh, Moira. We'll reach oh John soon enough, I promise. Repeatedly."

"Now? I mean...now?" she asked, hands pressing on his chest but he held her close.

He smiled. "Now. I can't resist you, baby. And after last night...well, it's all I can think about. Sexual pleasure. Sex. You."

"John? You are not–"

"Serious? Yes. I'm always serious about sex, baby, you know that." He kissed her again, sliding his hands under her sweater, her shirt to deftly unhook her bra. "Let's free the girls, shall we?"

She laughed. "John! Sweetie, this is hardly the time to engage in prolonged sexual activity."

"God you make me hard when you talk all sciency," he teased. Moving her to the bed now. "I'm going to suck you inch by inch, Moy. Hell, I'm not even going to use my cock to bring you the first time. Maybe not even the second."

A knock sounded. She bumped into the bed. "John–"

"No." He guided her onto the bed. Onto her back. Moved over her, aggressively running his hands up her thighs. Unzipping her pants. Fingers diving in to rub her crotch. To feel the wet fabric of her panties. He kissed her passionately. Another knock interrupted but John's fingers were sliding into the panties now, feeling all that heat and dampness beckoning, luring. His tongue gliding into her mouth to silence her whimpers, her moans.

Moira moaned, arching as his fingers plied into her. His mouth nibbling her ear, biting gently to make her gasp, cry out. "John! Oh John!" she whimpered. Body a flood of need.

"Every inch of you, baby," he vowed. "But you need to be naked. Every fucking inch." He yanked up her shirt, her bra. Cupping, caressing. Then greedily kissing. Fingers probing now to make her whimper. Legs spreading under him.

He kissed her mouth, taking in her passion, her need. Fingers sliding free. He yanked down her pants, her panties, freeing one leg as she bent her knee to aid him. Bent his mouth to suck her breasts, teasing the hard nipples again. Gently biting to make her gasp, arch, squirm wildly. She moaned, whimpering as his fingers slid between her legs. Roughly stroking, sliding. Searching every inch, every fold, finding every pleasurable spot to mercilessly bring her.

Moira lost herself. Writhing beneath him, helpless. Legs opening, whimpers loud. Noises issuing from her breathless lips as his mouth and tongue sucked wildly at her breasts. As his fingers plied her ruthlessly, inserting now to rub faster, faster, harder. Her soft cries escalating, her muscles pulsing over his fingers now, pulling him, pulling him. Moira was lost in a wild spasm of excruciating sexual pleasure. Pressure building, building. "John! Oh John, John, John!" she exclaimed, clutching at his arms, the blankets, anything.

John's cock was throbbing in his pants, fighting against the confines of his boxers, but he ignored it. Concentrating on her pleasure, her needs. He paused, as if resting, but then simultaneously

bit her nipple as his fingers thrust with rough, direct precision into her.

Moira cried out sharply, arching as if she would jump off the bed. She came abruptly, pleasure flooding as the climax shook her. Drenched in his saliva, her sweat, her arousal gushing onto his fingers. "Oh John! John, John, John!" she cried in a sobbing wave of hysterical pleasure.

John grunted, freed her. "Fuck!" he swore. Roughly unzipped his pants, erection so hard he nearly came in his own hands as he freed himself. "I have to have you, baby, I have to oh fuck!" He thrust into her ripe opening. Thrust hard, deep.

Moira cried out again at this harder, bigger penetration. She arched, lifted. Legs flying up to either side of him as he filled her. Rocking her passionately. A whole new cycle of pleasure building, rushing. Inarticulate gasps and moans were wrenched from her mouth in a stuttering crescendo as another climax burst. Sending her into throes of passionate release.

John grunted, grunted, moving faster and faster. Pleasure so tight, so slick he couldn't get enough of it. He groaned loudly, coming a in a rush of shudders, of shivers. Releasing all that vivid arousal and need. Lust rocking the bed. Locking their bodies together. He thrust, thrust, turned on by her sounds, her body, her passion matching his own. Abruptly he ejaculated. Fell upon her, breathing hard. Pleasure a hot rush over him. He relaxed, catching his breath. Eased out of her with a satisfied sigh. "Fuck. Fuck...those noises you make, baby...they make me rock hard...fuck..." He shifted, entangled with her. Messy. Sticky. Hot.

He wondered at her silence. "Moira? Too much?" he inquired tiredly.


	3. Chapter 3

Inhibition3

Moira was trying to catch her breath. Hot. Sweaty. Sticky. Inundated with waves of pleasure, of sex and passion. Of John all over her. On top of her. In her. Bringing her wildly, ruthlessly. She couldn't speak. Her lips moved but no sound issued. She tried to relax. Blinked the tears of pleasure from her eyes. Touched his arms as he rested on her. "John?" she squeaked.

He smiled. Lifted his head to see her astonishment, her joy. Her love. Her long brown hair a swirl of color against the pillow. Tangled, sticking to her sweaty skin. He kissed her. "Moira. You make every man rock hard with those luscious, luscious sounds. I can't seem to stay out of you, baby. My sweet, sweet Moira..."

"John...my God...John...you...you..." she stammered softly. Kissed him. Ran her hands up under his shirt, yanking it up as he moved. Needing to feel his bare skin, the coarse body hair against her. "Oh John...John..." she sighed. Pressing her body to his. To feel the heat, the coarseness against her skin.

"Intense, I know. Quick but so intense, baby...you did need it. See? Hmm...I promised slow and sweet, didn't I? I'll have to work on that, Moira. Slow and sweet. Might need some caramel for that. Or handcuffs."

She smiled. "Hilarious, John. Damn...you..." She sighed, relaxing. Enjoying the feel of him on her. With her.

John hid his face in her hair, resting. Shifted his weight slightly off the baby bump. Moira's finger snaked under his shirt to stroke his back. He relaxed, half dozing.

"John? John? Don't fall asleep!"she scolded, smacking his back. He laughed softly into her hair. She laughed. Resumed caressing his back. "Although you did earn a rest, colonel."

"Damn right I did, baby." He lifted his head, smiling. She shifted under him as he kissed up her throat. Across her lips. Savoring, slow kisses. She melted. "Oh John...John..."

"Oh Moira. I love that too," he said into her ear. Kissed along her throat. "Moira...so fucking sweet...oh oh..."

She smirked. "My goodness, colonel, already?" she asked, feeling him becoming aroused once more.

He grinned. "Guess so, baby...nearly so. Moira, oh my Moira." He kissed her. "Let's just have sex all day today. You're under my purview now, sweetheart. All fucking day."

"Okay, John," she agreed happily, kissing him. "Oh John!" she enthused as he kissed down to her breasts again. Down across the baby bump, sliding off her. Gently rolled her onto her stomach. "Um, John?"

He ran his hands up her back, kissing down to her rear. Squeezed gently. "This way now, Moy. On your knees, baby. I want that pert little ass of yours."

She scooted up, moving onto her knees. Held onto the bedposts as he moved behind her. Spread her thighs wide, pulling her out some. "Um, John...John...we, we need to be quiet and oh!" she gasped as he slid into her slowly.

"Fuck...there we go. Hold on, sweetheart." He began a gentle momentum. Hands sliding up under her shirt. Caressing, kneading her breasts. His mouth sliding along her throat as his hands slid down. Over the baby bump. Down between her legs. Fingers plying into the top of her cleft as he pounded her faster, faster.

Moira stuttered in pleasure, whimpers strangled in her throat. She clenched on him, shifting, rocking with his every motion. Rattling the headboard as he thrust, thrust. His groans of pleasure shivering along her skin. His hot, quick breath tickling. "John, John...oh John..." she said breathlessly to each successive thrust, each wave of mounting pleasure. His fingers rubbed, rubbed as she squirmed.

"Fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, almost there, baby...so nice and tight," he intoned, trying to keep his voice down as the pleasure escalated. Abruptly flowered as he sped up, moving harder, deeper.

Moira cried out as the double orgasms hit, rippling hotly along her. A wave of tears clouded her eyes. "John! Oh John, John, John!" She arched, drowning in the pleasure as he hauled her up, back, groaning as he came once more. He slid out, freed her. Fell back onto the bed, sprawling onto his back. She freed the bedpost, slid down to nestle against him. Kissing him over and over. "John, John, you...John..."

He smiled. "My Moira...was that better? Hmm...still not sweet and slow, though. Let me–"

"No! Enough, colonel!" He gently laughed. She smiled, kissed him. "John...I've been thinking...are we having too–"

"Much sex? No. Not at all, baby. Ssh!"

She snuggled, kissing him. "John," she sighed in wonder, "how did you ever keep it up so long? And so quickly got it up again?"

He chuckled. "Hell if I know, baby, but let's enjoy it."

"I...I should get up and get to work," she suggested. Sighed.

"Yeah, so should I," he agreed. "But I want to stay in bed with Moira Sheppard." He kissed her. "Is John junior okay? Poor guy, all this sudden turbulence."

"Your fault," she accused, smiled. Slid on top of him suddenly. Caressed his hair, his face. Strangely serious. "I...I'm sorry, John."

"Sorry?" he asked, raising a brow. His hands sliding down to cup her naked rear.

"I didn't mean what I said. About you. You, you're not like the colonel. Not like that. You didn't mean to exterminate the–"

"Ah. I did. Mean to exterminate. And I am like him. In this regard, I am," he replied solemnly. "I'm sorry, Moira, but in this we are the exactly the same. He eliminated the entire species of ATA Wraith. I did the same with those sub-Wraith. So yes, in that we are the same. As you and I are the same, Moira. Doing what we had to do to protect our child. You're not a monster Moy, no more than I am. Not over this."

"It was wrong, John. What we did was wrong and–"

"And I can live with that, Moira, because it had to be done. I'm sorry you had to be involved. I'm sorry you had to witness it, even cause some of it." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. Losing himself in her brown eyes. Chocolate depths full of sorrow, concern. "You are going to have to live with it too. With me. Because we have a child on the way now. And that supercedes everything else. There is some of the colonel in me, you know that. But I swear to you I will never harm you or our child. I could never do what he did. Killing his own Moira even if she did beg him to do it. I'd rather die myself than do that. And I would."

"I...I...John, you..." She considered, shifting on him, felt tears. "You...you are not like him. Not even in that, that slaughter...I think. You–"

"I am, sweetheart. It's your decision whether or not to accept that. To accept me." He kissed her, drawing her down to him. Rolling so she was beneath him again.

"John?" She stopped him, hands splayed on his chest. "Of course I accept you. If you can accept me, what I did, what I've done, what–"

He kissed her. "All of you, baby. All of you." He ran his mouth along her throat, nibbling. Shifting his body to align with hers. "Every fucking inch of you," he muttered, nibbling her earlobe. Intentions all too obvious now.

Moira responded, but froze. Feeling his cock stirring between her legs. Suddenly becoming hard yet again. Poking her, probing for entrance, for release. "Something's wrong."

"Huh? Nothing's wrong, baby, I can guarantee that," he intoned huskily. He laughed suddenly.

"What's so funny? John, you couldn't possibly want to–"

"Us. Fucking repeatedly, as if we didn't give a shit who knows or overhears us. I love it."

"Ssh!" She pushed, pushed. "John!"

"Hell, no, baby. Seems I need to have another round of your sweetness. Ah, there we go, baby, nice and sweet for your military commander," he said low, thrusting into her with an elongated sigh of satisfaction. "Just let me ouch!"

Moira clenched on him. Hard, nearly slamming her legs together. "Enough, John! Now get off me, damn it, and get out of me!"

He snorted, more amused than annoyed. Moved as she relaxed. He slid out of her, sighed. "Okay, Moira. It wasn't quite hard enough anyway, but it will be. Why don't you slide on down there and take me into your–"

"Shut up! What is wrong with you?" she flared. She squirmed out from under him. Sat and pulled down her bra, her shirt. Reached behind to hook the bra once more. "Damn, colonel...will you put that thing back in your pants?"

He snorted. "Won't fit right now, baby. Why don't you try to make it fit?"

"Shut up! Damn it, John, look at us! You and your fucking cock make me so loud someone could have heard!"

"So? Let them. You know, Moira, everyone, and I mean everyone knows we enjoy lots of passionate, exuberant sex. Knows how you enjoy me and my fucking cock. Fucking."

"Hilarious, John! We need to be more discreet."

"No. Come back to my arms, Moira. Who said I was finished?"

"I said. This isn't right, John. You...you're, um, um, stamina, I mean even at our most exuberant it is exceptional but this...this..."

"Is exceptional, yes!" he agreed with a proud smile. "And when did you say we were finished? All I heard was your pleasure. Over and over. And over." He ran his hand up her back, fingers tangling in her hair. "Fuck. No wonder I can't keep my hands off you, or my cock out of you, baby. You are glowing with it, Moy. I'm all over you, baby."

"John!" She wiggled, pulling back on her panties, her pants.

"Fine." He sighed, slid off the bed and fixed his own clothing. "I have other things to do besides pleasuring my wife. Unfortunately. I will see you for lunch, sweetheart. I want to make certain you are eating properly and keeping it down."

"Fine. Just keep your cock down, would you!"

He laughed at her tone, her words. "As ordered, baby. For now. Lunch. At twelve sharp."

"Okay, John." She stood, moved round the bed to him as he zipped his pants, fixed his belt. Adjusting the clingy gray fabric so his arousal wasn't as noticeable. Moira's gaze was fixed there. Amused and fascinated all at once. Recalling the feel of him in her mouth. The size. The shape. The salty, sweaty taste. The spasms running along the length of him as her teeth scraped and scraped and bit. A surge of desire making her feel hot, flustered. "Um, John? After lunch...um...Sheppard's delight?"

He met her gaze, smiled at her embarrassment. "Fine by me, sweetheart. I'll bring the caramel fudge." He kissed her, pulling her into his arms. Kiss after kiss until he abruptly freed her, left before his cock became any harder, any more noticeable. Not bothering to clean up. Liking the feel of the messy sex clinging to him. Trickling along his cock, his thighs. The scent of Moira on his skin. The taste of her in his mouth. All that messy intimacy on his body. As if she had marked him as her own.

Moira smiled, moved to the bathroom to clean up. Marveling over the sex, the waves of pleasure and possession. The way John had taken all her blame, her anger, her guilt and erased it all with love and passion. She felt she was floating, body thrumming with adrenaline. Thoughts not as troubled as before. A s if the sex had clouded her mind. As if the passion had somehow lessened her own guilt and horror. As if John had somehow managed to shield her even from herself.

She stepped out of the room, presentable again. Clean clothes. Hair pulled into an efficient ponytail. Belying none of the passion although she could still feel it all over her body. See it in her mind as erotic images teased. She walked down the hallway, almost skipping down it as a burst of pure happiness engulfed her.

"Finally," came Evan's acerbic voice behind her. "Have you finished, Moira, or is the colonel going to fuck you all day?"


	4. Chapter 4

Inhibition4

Moira froze. Snapped out of her blissful reverie by the harsh words. The sarcastic tone. She whirled, stared in surprise as Evan approached her. Scowl on his face. "What?"

"You heard," he retorted, looking her up and down as if he had never seen her before. His gaze judgmental. "Or rather I heard. Repeatedly. I came by last night to talk to you. And just now. Does he ever stop fucking you, Moira? I'm surprised you can walk."

She stared in disbelief. Shock. Out of sorts. Evan was the very last person she would ever expect to talk to her like that. "I–" she began, having no idea how to respond.

"That is no way to speak to Colonel Sheppard's wife!" Moira whirled as Jason Reynolds intervened. Coming up behind her with quick strides. He stepped past her.

"I–" she tried again, startled and embarrassed.

"This is none of your business, Reynolds. I was having a private conversation with Moira if you don't mind," Evan stated.

"Private? In the hallway? And yes, I do mind," Jason retorted angrily. "Apologize to Doctor Sheppard."

"No. This is between me and her so keep walking. Moira," he said, dismissing the other man, "I can't believe how much you have changed."

"I...what? Evan, I don't–"

"You still need to apologize to her," Jason interrupted.

"No." Evan looked at Moira again. "You have! Condoning that slaughter? You? Has he turned your head around that much that you agree to whatever he says or does? Oh wait, I guess he turns more than your head, doesn't he?"

"I–" she tried again, but had no idea how to respond.

"That's enough, Lorne!" Jason snapped. "Don't speak to Doctor Sheppard like that!"

"I'll speak to her any damn way I want, Reynolds! She's a member of my team. Well, she used to be before she fell into the colonel's bed!"

"Evan! I'm still a member of–" she protested.

"You are pathetic! You sound like a jealous man! Sulking because you can't have what the colonel has and obviously enjoys!" Jason taunted.

"Oh, I've had that, and believe me, it was very enjoyable, but the constant–"

"Evan! You have not! We never–" she protested, stunned. Blushing at the way the men were talking about her. As if she wasn't even there.

"Very enjoyable," Evan continued, ignoring her, gaze locked with the other man's now, "and it's no surprise the colonel can't keep his dick out of her but she–"

"You fucking bastard!" Jason lunged, nearly knocking into Moira.

She scrambled aside as the two men traded punches. "Stop! Stop it! What the hell is wrong with you two? Please, stop! Stop!" She moved to intervene, but stopped. Hand on her abdomen as she realized she couldn't risk getting hit, couldn't risk the baby. She ran into her room, into John's adjoining room. Grabbed the spare 9mm handgun he kept in the dresser. She ran out into the hallway to see the two men viciously fighting. Blood was spurting. "Stop! Stop now!"

They ignored her. Fists flying as they grunted, hurling each other onto the floor, into the walls. Both men were armed but hadn't resorted to drawing their weapons. Not yet as each preferred the brute force of their bodies. But it was only a matter of time before one or the other drew their weapons to end the fight one way or another.

Moira fired the gun.

John scratched his head, scowling. Looking over Rodney's shoulder as he sat in the control room. He glanced at the scrolling data. Address after address after address of planets. Some with notations on the side. Some with nothing at all. "All of those?"

"Possibly," Rodney noted, studying the screen. "I've narrowed the search to planets we haven't been to yet, but even then the notes are sporadic and I can't quite get the–"

"What was that?" John turned, hearing a sound.

"What was what?"

"That!"

"What?"

"That!" John repeated, staring hard at nothing. "What the hell was that? It sounded like gunfire!"

"What? Here? In Atlantis?" Rodney questioned, looking round the control room. Everything seemed normal. In place. "I seriously doubt that, unless one of your marines got careless."

"Not likely. I could have sworn that sounded like a gunshot," he mused, looking round. But everything appeared normal. No one was running, or panicking, or shouting for aid.

"Please! You'll do anything to get out of this search!" Rodney stated, shaking his head. "Now look at this, John. If we narrow the parameters to possible ZPMs in somewhat advanced cultures possessing the John! Sheppard, focus!"

"What? Oh...okay, go on," John noted, looking at the screen. Looking up again as the noise nagged at him.

Evan and Jason froze as the bullet flew over their heads, slammed into a wall. The reverberations of the shot echoing in the silent hallway. They both looked over at her.

Moira pointed the gun at them. "Stop! I don't know what's wrong with you two but something..." she paused, considering. "The pulse...the subsonic...of course! It must have accelerated your hormonal levels or...John...of course! No wonder he was so eager and able to keep it up for...oh shit, don't move!" she snapped as they moved to their feet. Glanced at each other as her rambling calmed them.

"Easy, Moira, there's no need to shoot," Evan soothed. Wiped blood off his mouth.

"It's all right, Doctor Sheppard. Lower the weapon," Jason said, stepping towards her. One eye purpling and swelling shut.

"No! Stay back! Stay away from me!" She clutched the gun in both hands. Finger sliding on the trigger. She heard running footsteps behind her. "Don't! Come any closer and I will shoot!" She heard the footsteps abruptly stop.

"Um, ma'am, is there a, a, a problem?" asked a very nervous marine.

"Tonner, go get Colonel Sheppard," Jason suggested.

"No!" Moira objected. "The last thing he needs is–"

"Doctor Sheppard, please lower the weapon." At the calm voice she glanced over to see a red-haired man slowly approaching. Empty hands in front of him. "Please. We won't bother Colonel Sheppard. I will take these two into custody for you."

Moira considered. Lowered the weapon. "Okay, um, lieutenant?" she guessed.

The man smiled. "Lieutenant Josh Peterson," he introduced himself. "Tonner, go on ahead of us. Majors Lorne, Reynolds, if you would?" He gestured. "Ma'am, you too, please. We will need to hear exactly what happened."

Moira nodded. Waited until the men moved past her, ahead of her. She kept a firm grip of the gun in her hand. "Okay, Lieutenant Peterson."

"Thank you, ma'am. Are you all right? You weren't harmed, were you?"

"No, I'm fine. That's why I grabbed the gun," she explained.

"Sir! Sir!" George Tonner skidded to a halt, saluted, stood nervously in the control room.

"Report, sergeant," John said, eying him. But looked past him to see a parade heading up the stairs and into the conference room. A bruised and battered Evan. Followed by a bruised and battered Jason. Followed by Moira, clutching a gun at her side. Followed by Josh. "What the..."

"Sir, sir, there was a shot! I ran to–"

"Told you that was gunfire," John commented to Rodney who had been staring at the odd procession as well. "Continue, sergeant," he stated, eying the sweating man in front of him.

"Sir. I ran to investigate. Apparently Lorne and Reynolds were fighting and your wife, sir, I mean, Doctor Sheppard fired a warning shot to make them stop. She had the gun trained on them, she wouldn't relinquish it. Then Lieutenant Peterson arrived and took, took charge of the, the situation. No one touched her, sir, I swear, no one laid a, a, a hand on your, your wife."

John nodded. Knowing the man's extreme agitation was due to the fate of the last man who had laid hands on Moira. Who had pushed her into a console. John had shot the man. Killed him instantly. "Oh."

"Oh? What the hell is going on, John?" Rodney flared. "Your wife is taking up target practice now?"

John shrugged. "No idea. Dismissed, Tonner. I'll go see what what's." He glanced at Rodney. "Just another day in Atlantis." He climbed the stairs, entered the conference room.

Josh nodded, standing near the doorway. At John's motion he departed. Evan sat at one end of the conference table. A bloody cut lip dribbled. His knuckles were raw. He was staring hard at the other man. Jason was sitting at the other end of the table. A purple bruise on his jaw. One eye swelling shut and turning black. He was glaring at Evan. Moira sat across from them, equidistant from both. She appeared fine, unharmed. Not a hair out of place. She was staring at nothing. Hands clasping the gun on the table. John recognized the 9mm. To his sudden consternation he saw the safety was off.

"Sir."

"Sir."

Moira broke from her thoughts, looked over as John moved to stand next to her. "John."

He met her gaze. Held out his hand. "Moira."

She stared. "Oh!" She handed him the gun. John clicked on the safety. Slipped it into the back of his pants. He touched her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, John, I'm fine. Fine. So is John junior. You?"

He almost smiled, caught himself. "Fine. Care to tell me what happened?"

She glanced at the men. "I...I don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

Inhibition5

John had to suppress another smile. "You don't know? You just pulled a gun on them for fun?"

"Well, no. I mean...I don't know why they were being such, such assholes."

"Hey! I was defending you, Doctor Sheppard! After the disgusting things he said to you," Jason objected.

"I only said the truth in a private conversation," Evan retorted.

"Enough! Did I ask either of you?" John snapped. Looked at Moira who was staring at him. He sat next to her. "Moira?"

She sighed. "All right. I should have realized sooner but you are were so damn distracting. I think the subsonic pulse has triggered an autonomic response in our hormonal levels, attacking the hypothalamus and the lower brain functions which we normally curtail or monitor with higher brain activities resulting in more aggressive or passionate behavior that–"

"Whoa. Back up, please," John interrupted. "What made you pull the gun?"

"Oh. That?" she asked, as if it was of no consequence.

John had to force his smile away again. "Yes. That," he clarified. Puzzled by her reaction as well as amused.

"I had to, John. It was the only way to stop them. I couldn't risk a physical intervention. I'm pregnant with your son, you know."

"Yes, I know," he agreed. "So you pulled a gun to–"

"You showed me where you kept it. For emergencies, you said, if I ever needed it."

"Yes, I did," he agreed again. "So you pulled a gun to–"

"I didn't have a choice. Um...there was an argument and it got rather heated. So heated they fought. I had to stop them. So I fired the gun. A warning shot, like you taught me, John. The safety off, a straight stance, arms extended but bent at the elbows to allow the–"

"Yes, Moira, I know how to fire a weapon. So you pulled a gun to make them stop?"

"Yes. And it worked too."

"And you couldn't relinquish your weapon?"

"No. You told me to never do that. Except to you, of course. To keep it if I felt threatened."

"Yes. So you felt threatened?" He glared at the two men. Gaze narrowing dangerously.

"Yes, John," she confirmed. "Me. John junior. I had to–"

"I would never hurt her, sir! I was defending her!" Jason exclaimed.

"Against me? I'd never hurt her either!" Evan argued. "We were having a private conversation when you butted in and–"

"You were upsetting Doctor Sheppard with your insults and your filthy accusations and–"

"Enough! Moira, what was the argument?" John asked.

She looked at him. "I'd rather not discuss that, colonel." She eyed the table.

John waited, but all three were silent. "Somebody tell me. Now!" He slammed his open palm on the table, startling them. Rattling the data screens.

"It was a private conversations, sir. With Moira."

"You insulted her!" Jason retorted. "Practically called her a slut to her face and then–"

"I did no such thing! I–"

"You did, you son of a–"

"Enough!" John slammed his hand on the table again. "A slut?" he quietly asked. Voice low, dangerous. "You–"

"Wait." Moira colored. Touched John's arm, restraining him. He met her gaze. "I told you, John. Too much." As he pondered her words she looked at Evan. "What were you going to say?"

"Before we were interrupted, you mean?"

"Maybe I should quote you verbatim to Colonel Sheppard," Jason threatened.

"Jason, no, please. Evan, what were you going to say?" Moira repeated. She scooted a little closer to John, her hand still on his arm. John noticed, stared hard at Evan. But Evan's gaze was locked with Moira's.

"You...you're not Moira O'Meara anymore," Evan stated.

"Well, obviously, she–" Jason scoffed.

"Jason! Please!" Moira scolded. "Evan?"

Evan glanced at Jason. Scowled. Met Moira's gaze. "You're not Moira O'Meara anymore. You do remember her, don't you? The scientist? The paleozoologist? The member of my team? Going on missions, extrapolating incredible data from the slimmest of findings. Making connections between Wraith species and us that not even Carson considered."

"I...I'm still Moira O'Meara," she answered softly, disturbed by his accusations.

"No. You're not. Think about it, Moira," Evan urged. Sincere.

"Moira Sheppard," John intoned low. Moved to his feet. "Sheppard. As in my wife. Mother of my son on the way. And as for too much," he glanced at her, "that is really none of their fucking business is it? Is it?" he snapped loudly.

"John," Moira warned.

"You should have heard him, sir. The things he said to her, about her, about you, about–" Jason baited.

"He's corrupted you, Moira. You're not yourself anymore. You're not anything now but his frequent fuck buddy–"

"Son of a bitch!" John lunged across the table, so fast, so violently he knocked Evan backwards to the floor. A data screen flew off the table and smashed onto the floor.

"No! John!" Moira cried. "Please, John!"

John ignored her. Swung his fist, moving round the table but caught himself hearing a click of a gun. Of the safety being removed. He turned slowly, expecting Josh or Jason or some marine. He stared incredulously at Moira. He glanced down at his empty holster. Back to his wife as he held the gun trained on him. "Moira?"

"Please, John. You are not thinking clearly. None of us are! Please!" she said nervously.

"Moira? You would shoot me over him?"

"No. I'd shoot you to prevent you from doing something you would regret. Please, John...stand down. Please, John." The gun wavered in her hands but she steadied it.

John swallowed his anger, his fury. Straightened. Moved slowly towards her, away from Evan who was moving to his feet. "Fine. Peterson!" The other man entered, glancing worriedly at the men, at Moira, at him. "Escort these two to the med lab. We need to find out what the hell is going on. You will go to the med lab and let Carson test you."

"John, what the... Moira?" Rodney entered, staring in shock. "Whatever it is, John, it's affecting every member of the teams you took to that planet. Carson's rounding them up as we speak. You'll probably have to be tested as well. And Moira. Moira, let's put the gun down, shall we? I don't think you really want to shoot John, now do you? Oh sure, I can understand the feeling. I've been tempted to shoot him lots of times. Lots. But we'd never really do it, would we?"

Moira blinked. "What?" She stared at Rodney. "No...I...John?" She looked at him.

John breathed a sigh of relief. He took the weapon from her hands, clicked on the safety and replaced it in his holster. "Thanks, Rodney. Lorne, Reynolds, Peterson, go now." He waited as the three men exited, glancing back in confusion. "You could have just asked me to stand down, Moira," he chided. Rattled. "You think this is because of that subsonic pulse wave? That thing hit us like a shock wave."

"Yes. That would explain your nightmare, John, and your, um, your, um...you know." She glanced at the floor.

John smiled. "Okay. Rodney, have Carson come to us when he's done. We'll be in our quarters. Moira, please." He took her arm, gently guided her out of the room. "I can't believe you pulled a gun on me," he muttered, guiding her down the stairs.

"Nor can I. I...I'm sorry, John."

"It's affecting you too, Moira. Although not as much. The Jumper protected you," he reasoned.

"Yes, yes, of course," she agreed. "I heard the noise but didn't feel any wave like you did. Like Evan. Like–"

"That's not the only reason he..." John led her to their rooms. Sighed. He freed her arm, watched her move to stand by the table. He pulled out the extra gun, returned it to his room. Stepped back into theirs to see she hadn't moved. "Moira, I should have seen this coming. I'm sorry. It's been brewing for awhile now. I thought it would just go away. I mean, it's so obvious we are together. In every sense of the word." He sat on the bed.

She stared at him. "What? I don't understand, John. How could you foresee the affect of the pulse wave on us?"

"No, not that. Isn't it obvious?" he tested, watching her.

"Isn't what obvious?" she asked, bewildered. She moved to him, stood looking at him. Honestly perplexed by his words. "John?"

"I should have realized, sweetheart," he remonstrated. "I'm sorry. I've been so wrapped up in our own little world. You. Me. John junior. Our own private happiness. Our perfect little circle, Moira, that nothing touches. That no one touches."

"Huh? Realized what?" she prompted She put her hands on her hips, waiting. "Well?"

"Wrapped up in our own little circle of heaven, Moy," he continued, gaze wandering over her. "You. Me. John junior. In our own exuberant sexual pleasure and intimacy. Fuck, you are beautiful, Moira. Glowing."

"John! Realized what? What?" she demanded, losing patience.

He smiled. "Realized that he has feelings for you."

"Huh? Who has?"

"Hello? Who is jealous of our persistent, passionate lovemaking? Who accused you of not being you?"

It took her a moment. The idea so startling, the concept so outlandish. "Evan? You think Evan has..." She laughed.

He frowned. "It's not funny, Moira."

"John! Please! You can't be serious! Evan?"

"Yes!" Her amusement was irritating him. "I think he loves you and wants to–"

She laughed again. "Don't be ridiculous, John! Of course he doesn't!"

"Excuse me? Apparently he does, Moy, and want to–"

"He does not! Don't be an ass, John!"


	6. Chapter 6

Inhibition6

John scowled. Staring at his wife. Pissed by her disbelief, her merriment. He folded his arms across his chest. An immovable, implacable stance. As he sat on the bed facing her. "Oh really?" he challenged. "Then, please, doctor, explain it to me. Maybe my pretty head can't comprehend it."

"Apparently not!" She sighed, considered. Began to pace around the room. "You want the truth? He was right. I'm not...I'm not Moira O'Meara anymore." She paused. A trace of sadness in her voice, in her stance at this loss. A loss of her former self. A younger, more naive self.

"No," John agreed. "You are Moira Sheppard now. An unavailable married, pregnant woman."

"No, no, he didn't mean it like that!" she retorted. Resumed pacing. "I'm not...I'm not Moira O'Meara anymore,"she repeated, finding it difficult to explain. "I'm not the same anymore! Don't you see? Evan was right. I'm not Moira O'Meara anymore. I mean I am but I'm not."

"Oh. Well, that clarifies things perfectly," he quipped. Voice sour.

She glared at him. "Will you shut up and listen?"

"I'm telling you, Moira, he's in love with you and want to–"

"No! Of course not! It's our friendship. Our friendship has changed. Everything has changed! Irrevocably changed. Me. Even you, John. There's nothing we can do about it. It's irreversible," she continued. "I mean I'm still a scientist. A paleozoologist. But I'm so much more now. I have you, John. You. Do you have any idea what that means?"

He paused. It sounded like an accusation, but he wasn't sure. "Um...no. That's a good thing, right? Having me?"

"Yes, of course it's a good thing!" she flared, sounding angry. "It's a wonderful thing! But it's utterly changed me! You! You!"

"Me, I got that," he quipped, but she ignored him.

"You're my confidante now. I talk to you now, well, mostly, about everything. Anything. And most of the time you even listen to me. So that's a big, big change, as is the fact that I'm no longer solely focused on my job, the science but I'm focused on you. You! You, John! I think about you all of the damn time! I still can't quite believe you are mine, solely mine. That we can be together, well, whenever your schedule allows it, of course. And not just for the sex. I mean just to be together, John, to spend time with you because you, you love me. John, you love me!"

She paused, glancing at him as if startled.

He smiled. "Yes, Moy, I do. Love you."

"Don't you see? Oh John, no one has ever loved me like you love me and that's why I'm so damned distracted from my work and my science! You! And now, now I'm pregnant! Pregnant, John, because of you and your damn sperm! It changes everything!"

"Moira," John tried to interrupt, moving to his feet. Her words were coming faster and faster. Her pacing becoming more frenetic as she became agitated.

"Everything, John! And I can hardly talk about all of that to Evan, can I? No, only to you, John, about this, about the baby and all of the changes. But I'm still a scientist, John! I can't change that and I won't change that! You married a scientist, John, so just deal with it, okay? I can't change the fact that I married the military commander of Atlantis and am so in love with him it's altered my personality and my perceptions and I am carrying his child now! This all means the loss of intimacy with Evan. Not physical, of course, there was never any physical intimacy but emotional or, or conversational–"

"Moira!" he said sharply, as she was working herself into a state.

"–intimacy and that has altered his perception of me as well! To the extent that he sees me now not as a scientist but as a, a woman. A woman, John! Because we're having too much glorious, exuberant sex and all the time now and we have to be more discreet because the–"

"Moira!" John caught her, pulled her into his arms. Kissed her. A deep, probing kiss that took her breath away. Dissolved her words. Her panic. Her sorrow. He pulled back. "Better, baby?"

"I–"

"Don't. Please, don't." He kissed her again. Mouth slowly moving over hers. Tongue gliding to tease. "Moira, you need to relax. I'll handle this."

"John...John...you...you..." Her hands slid up his chest. "You do understand, don't you?"

He kissed her again. Stroking her back. "Shut up, Moy, please!" he said fondly, causing her to smile. "Or I will keep my tongue in that mouth of yours."

"Hmm..promise, sweetie?" She kissed him. "John...oh John..."

"Ssh." He ran his mouth down her throat when a knock sounded. "Shit." He freed her, moved to the door. Opened it. "Carson." He stepped aside to let the doctor into the room.

"Moira, love, how are you feeling?" Carson greeted, gaze taking in her flustered appearance.

"Fine," she said softly, tearing her gaze from her husband. The imprint of his lips on hers haunting. Tantalizing.

"Findings?" John asked.

"Nothing so far. There's nothing in the blood work but I am taking everyone's and running every test I can. I'm here to draw your blood. Both of you need to stay here under quarantine. Everyone affected is under quarantine until further notice. Sit, please." Carson quickly collected the samples. Produced a syringe from his kit.

"What's that?" John asked, suspicious.

"A mild sedative. I've given it to all of the men. Now it's your turn, John. It will help you relax. It might make you drowsy, even. Two other fights broke out but neither were serious."

"What? Two other fights? Why the hell wasn't I informed?" John snapped.

"Because you are under quarantine as well, John. And as I said neither one was as serious or as violent as the one Moira provoked."

"I didn't provoke it!" she protested.

"Ow!" John protested as the needle pierced his arm. "Are you giving this to Moira?"

"No. You know that I can't," Carson stated. "Moira, just relax. You weren't as exposed as the men were."

"I was safe in the Jumper," she agreed. "John kept me safe."

"Yes, I'm certain he did, love." Carson closed his kit. "I'll be back in an hour to confer with you over the results, and to see how you are doing."

Moira followed Carson to the door. "None of this will affect the baby, will it?" she asked, hand on the baby bump under her sweater.

"No. You're fine so he's fine. He's even more protected than you are, Moira. Relax, love. Don't upset yourself. Has John exhibited any symptoms of overt aggression?"

"No, not towards me," she assured, seeing the doctor's concern. "He...um...it's a different manifestation towards me..." She blushed. Gaze dropping to the floor.

"Oh," Carson said, realizing. "Well, try to relax, love. We'll get this sorted soon."

Moira gasped as John was suddenly behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. "I know exactly how to make her relax, Carson. Exactly." He smiled. "Carson, let me ask you this. As a medical professional do you think that Moira and I are having too much sex?"

"John!" she scolded, mortified. She moved in his arms but he held her close.

"Because everybody else does,"he continued, ignoring her protests but enjoying the way she was squirming against him. Her rounder rear rubbing his crotch over and over. "I mean, I wasn't aware there was some Atlantis sexual schedule we have to follow but apparently there is because Moira and I are fucking way too often, too exuberantly for the citizens of this city to feel comfortable. So tell me–"

"John! Shut up!" she snapped, trying to move but only feeling his arousal pressing. Hardening along her rear. His voice was low, a trace of husky desire making her lower body tighten, flood in response.

"No, we need to know if our repeated fucking is causing a disturbance, don't we?" he asked, his tone conveying it was the most ordinary question in the world he could be asking. "So? Are we?"

"Well, colonel," Carson decided to humor him, "in my medical opinion that is entirely up to Moira, your wife." He kept his gaze on John, not looking at Moira to spare her further embarrassment.

John considered a moment. "Huh. Well, yes, obviously, and believe me, she wants to do it as much as I do. As often as I do. As energetically as I do and as–"

"John!" She elbowed him, blushing scarlet.

"I'll be back in an hour, Moira," Carson said, as if nothing embarrassing had occurred. "John, look after your wife."

"Of course I'll look after my wife, doc! I always look after my wife!" he called as Moira shut the door. "Every fucking inch of her!"

"John!" She shoved, turned to him. "Damn it, colonel, stand down! I know the wave is affecting your brain chemistry but there was no excuse for that Alpha male behavior and you–"

"No." He pushed her gently against the door. Kissed her. "This is all me, baby. And according to the doctor we are not having too much sex. So stop asking me." He kissed her again, pressing his body to hers. Shoving his growing erection onto her crotch. "Hmm...baby, didn't I promise you sweet and slow? We have an hour. That's more than enough time for sweet and slow, Moira. Plus a little kinky...just a little, Moy. My Moira. Door."

"What?" she asked, even as he was opening the sweater. Hands sliding down to her hips to undo her pants. Unzip.

"Door. First. Then sweet and slow in the bed." He smiled wickedly. "I want someone to pass by and hear you come."

"John Sheppard! You can't–"

"Oh baby, I can, believe me, I can," he assured, yanking down her pants, her panties as she squirmed. He freed her to quicky undo his pants, unzip. Free himself. He sprang out of his clothing, eager and hungry for her.

"John?" she asked, eyes widening at how swiftly he was ready. How big he was already.

He laughed. Kissed her, hands running up her thighs to part. "Oh yeah, baby. Deployment here, then the bed. Get me off, then I promise to get you off. Repeatedly, baby."


	7. Chapter 7

Inhibition7

John dragged himself from sleep hearing a noise. He woke. Found himself sprawled naked in his bed. Moira was cuddled on top of him. Her naked body pressed to his. She was fast asleep. Loose hair a brown swirl over them, around them. He smiled, kissed her brow. He couldn't quite remember removing their clothes. Figured it must have been after the slightly rougher sex against the door and before the prolonged lovemaking on the bed. Twice. He smirked, impressed by his stamina. By hers. Not caring if it had been the pulse wave or not.

Gently he scooted out from under her as the noise resolved itself into a knocking on the door. He ignored it. Stretched, feeling replete. Feeling incredibly relaxed. Happy. Cool air wafted along his naked skin. Drying the sweat, the stickiness of their intimacy. He yawned. Ran a careless hand through his disordered hair.

"Moira? It's Carson, love. Moira?"

John sat. Frowned. "Just a sec, Carson!" he called. Glanced at Moira who stirred, reaching for him. He leaned close, kissed her. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I'll handle this." He slipped out of the blankets. Hastily pulled on his clothes, finding them scattered all over the floor. He smirked, recalling their haste, their eagerness to continue after the door. To indulge fully on the bed. In the bed. He moved to the door, opened it. Stood blocking the view of the bed. Smiled smugly. "Carson. Results?"

Carson raised a brow at John's appearance. His shirt half tucked into his unzipped, buttoned pants. Belt askew. Hair disordered more than usual. Bare feet. The proud, satisfied gleam in his eyes, on his face. "Not as pleasing as yours, colonel." John laughed. Carson smiled, continued, "I need to confer with Moira on this. Is she–"

"Asleep," John informed. "Relaxed, well, now. Very. I don't want her disturbed, all right? Surely you can see that she needs to sleep, right?"

"John?" Moira stirred, hearing his voice. She stretched in the bed, rolling onto her back. Smiled. "Oh John, John," she purred with a happy sigh. "Sweetie, come back to bed. That was exquisite! All three times! Oh John...John, even my toes had an orgasm that time!" She heard male laughter. "John?" She sat, abruptly awake. Covered herself with the blankets hearing not only his laughter but another's.

"I'm glad your toes are as happy as the rest of you," Carson jested.

"Carson?" she squeaked, staring at John's back.

"Shall I come back in ten minutes?"

"Make it five, Carson! I just need to get dressed and oh shit oh shit!" she muttered, frozen in place. Body still redolent with John's warmth, John's tongue, John's cock. Waves of remembered pleasure suddenly vivid.

John laughed again. "Make it ten, doc." He winked, closed the door. Turned. "So, baby...what would that be? A toegasm?"

"Shut up, John!" Moira scrambled out of the bed as he laughed. Grabbing her clothes as John watched her mad dash around the bed and into the bathroom.

John grinned. Sauntered to the closed door. "Hey, baby...that was a show!"

"Shut up, John!"

He laughed again. "Hey, baby. Sweet and slow like I promised, right? Twice! After the kinky at the door. Every inch of you, literally this time. Toegasms and all."

"It's not funny, John!" she flared, hastily pulling on her clothes, flustered.

"It is funny, Moira. Deliciously funny. It's all right, baby. Carson knows we have lots of–"

"Hilarious, John! Shut up!"

He laughed again. "You were right, baby. It was fucking exquisite. Lush and ripe...every fucking inch of you."

"Why don't you make yourself useful?"

"I thought I already did. Repeatedly."

Moira laughed, too enamored to be angry for long. "Yes, sweetie, you most certainly did. Repeatedly. But I meant why don't you make the bed?"

"Oh. Okay, Moira." He smiled as he moved to it. Eyed the wild disorder of blankets and comforter. Pillows askew. He began to fix the bed. "So...Moira...what exactly does a toegasm feel like? Was it when I took you at the door? Or the first time on the bed? Or the second in the bed? How do toes come, exactly? How does your ow!" He whirled, feeling Moira's hand slapping his rear.

"Hilarious, John! Why don't' you get that fine, fine ass in gear, colonel, and get me some food! I'm starving!" she scolded.

He smiled. Kissed her. "So am I, baby. I'll see what we have but we need to restock." He sauntered into his room.

Moira smiled, headed for the door as a knock sounded. "Oh John!" she called. "Zip up your pants, damn it!" He laughed in reply. Moira snorted, but was suddenly self-conscious. She smoothed down her shirt, her pants. Flung her loose hair behind her shoulders. She opened the door. "Carson. Please, come in. Um, um, sorry! Sorry about the...um...delay."

"It's all right, Moira," Carson soothed, entering the room. "I'll just assume you were busy consulting with John again."

She laughed, following him to the table. "Yes, exactly. Sorry."

"Sweetheart," John called from his room, "there is only one sandwich left. Give me your best offer for it. And by your best I man your naughtiest little oh." He paused on the threshold between the two rooms, food and beverages in hand. "Hi Carson." He smirked as Moira glared at him.

"Let me guess. More consultation?"

John laughed. "Yeah." He sat next to Moira as she took a seat between the two men. Carson opened his laptop. John took half the sandwich. Opened a beer. "So you—"

"John! You could at least offer Carson a beer!" Moira scolded, opening her water.

"No thank you, love. Go ahead. Eat. I'm fine," the doctor assured.

"Thank you." Moira attacked the half of the sandwich. John ate his with equal expediency.

"My preliminary findings are that this wave is like the enzyme. And it's not."

John sighed. "Do all you scientists talk that way?" he complained, glancing at Moira. She was sipping her water, avid gaze locked onto his every mouthful. At his smug, knowing expression she scowled, looked at Carson.

"Blood work?" she asked.

"No. Except for traces of higher concentrations of endorphins. Naturally produced. Chemical stimulation but no traces of foreign substances," Carson answered.

"Brainwave patterns?"

"Yes. Exact areas affected by the storm."

"ATA?"

"Mostly."

"Stop! I hate it when you talk in shorthand!" John complained, looking from one to the other. "In English, please. Full sentences," he reprimanded.

Moira smiled, patted his thigh. "Sorry, colonel. The pulse wave triggered the same autonomic impulses like the enzyme, but not in the bloodstream. Rather in the areas of the brain which produce those impulses, raising the endorphin levels to aggravated states with a higher emotional, primal behavioral–"

"Never mind," John sighed. "Go back to shorthand."

Moira laughed. "Sorry, John."

"The good news is that the affects are temporary. They should wear off in a day or two," Carson stated. "The sedatives are helping as is the enforced isolation."

"So no ill affects. No long-term consequences," John surmised. Sipped his beer. "That is good news. And the bad?"

"There's no bad," Moira argued. Paused. "Is there?"

Carson shrugged. "There's a wee bit of bad, I'm afraid. It's going to get worse before it bets better. Some are experiencing headaches. A few nightmares."

"Well, that's only to be expected, and nothing new," John reasoned.

"I'm more concerned with the after affects," Moira said softly. Her hand still resting on John's thigh. She licked her lips. Looked at him. "Are you sure there's nothing else to eat? I'm still hungry, " she complained.

John smiled. "Positive. Sorry. We're cleaned out. Except for some stashed chocolate bars."

"Damn," she muttered. "And it's not funny, John!"

"Did I say it was funny, Moira?" he asked, grinning. Amusement and warmth in his brilliant green eyes as she met them. "Carson, are we still in quarantine?"

"Yes," Carson said, looking from one to the other.

"Let me run to the cafeteria to grab her highness here some hot food. And for me too. If there is one thing I've learned it's not to leave a pregnant woman hungry." The men laughed.

"John! It's not funny!" she flared, hitting his thigh.

"Hey, you don't have to tell me, Moira. I've seen you when you are hungry, and believe me, there is nothing humorous about it." They laughed again.

She sighed. "Then go! Get my food, flyboy! Move that fine, fine ass of yours ASAP! And bring some peanut butter!"

"Peanut butter? Hmm..." He raised a brow.

She smirked. "No! To eat! That's all! Go!"

John laughed. He kissed her. Stood. "As ordered, sweetheart. I'll be back in ten, Carson. Feel free to get all sciency without me."

"Go on, colonel, I can finish conferring with Moira," the doctor agreed, amused.

John smiled. "Just as long as you don't consult with her."

"John," she warned, seeing the mischief in his eyes.

"Because that's my purview."

"John! Go!"

He laughed. "Well, it is, Moira. Mine. Back in ten."

"Make it five, soldier!" She smiled, watched him pull on his boots and swiftly depart.

Carson smiled, shaking his head. "You two," he fondly observed.

"What? Oh...well...you know. Right after, well, not right after," she quickly corrected, blushing, "but sometime after, um, he...I...he gets rather...um..."

"No, no," Carson laughed, seeing her embarrassment. "I didn't mean that. I've never seen John so happy. Or you. The two of you together, I mean."

"Oh." She smiled. "We are happy. Mostly. Very. I...he..we..." She eyed the table. Traced her finger on it, abruptly shy. "I...I love him, Carson. He loves me. Even, even now. Even like, like this. I mean... I mean I am so in love with him and he, he loves me."

Carson smiled. "Obviously, Moira. And especially like this. I didn't meant to upset you, love. I'm just happy for you and for John."

"John said. John said we, we are wrapped up in our own little world. Our own little circle of heaven. The three of us. So we don't really notice, um, the affect that might have on, on others...um...how we...how I..."

"That's understandable, Moira. But you do need to be aware of these things," Carson gently advised. "I know that you are John's top priority, and he is yours. But you must be mindful of other people."

She sighed. "I know. I...know now. I should have realized..." She met his gaze, shrugged. "It's only gotten worse now, with my pregnancy. I mean, our, um, our exclusionary practices."

"Again, perfectly normal, Moira. Just keep in mind that your friends enjoy your company too."

"Yes, and John...John has so many responsibilities here and missions...that's why we try to spend as much time together as we can, when we can."

"Of course. I'm not suggesting anyone impinge on that, Moira. I merely–"

A knock sounded. Moira rose, moved to the door. Opened it. Stared at a marine holding a tray laden with food. "Yes?"

"Doctor Sheppard, this is for you." She stepped aside, gestured. The man carried the tray to the table. "Colonel Sheppard ordered me to bring this to you. He said he'd be along presently."

"He said...oh oh..." She exchanged a look with Carson. Both hastened out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Inhibition8

John eyed the marine guarding the door. He didn't have to say a word. A mere motion of his hand and the younger man stepped aside, visibly gulping. "No one disturbs us," he said gruffly.

"Yes, sir!"

John entered the room. Not bothering to knock. He strolled to the table. Evan had been sitting there, reading a book. At the colonel's unannounced, unexpected entrance he moved to his feet, startled. Wary. He stared at the two beers John set down on the table. "Sir?" Baffled Evan could only watch.

John was still silent. He pulled out a chair. Sat. Opened a beer and drank. "I believe we need a beer, major," he finally said. "And a talk. Man to man. Sit."

Evan did so. Grabbed a beer. Opened it. Took a long sip. Set it aside, frowning under John's cold, assessing gaze. "What do you want to talk about, sir?"

"Oh, I think you know. You see, Moira explained it to me. About the pulse wave. Affecting our brain chemistry. Triggering aggression and the like. Sort of like the enzyme but not. The same areas but not in the same way. How you're pissed she's not supposedly Moira O' Meara anymore. Well, that is true. She is Moira Sheppard now. Will always be Moira Sheppard. How that impacts your friendship with her is up to you. She thinks that's all it is. But we know better. Don't we, major?" John took a long sip of beer.

Evan sipped his. "We do, sir? So...you actually listen to her?" he asked. The jibe biting against John's icy tone.

"From time to time," John said mildly, but the edge in his voice was still there. "When I'm not busy fucking her," he added with a sly smile. Saw the other man's surprise, anger. Sullen expression. "Ah. That's what it boils down to, isn't it? I tried to tell Moira but she wouldn't believe me. She wouldn't believe that of her good friend Evan." The last three words were said slowly. Distinctly. Almost, almost bitterly.

"Believe what, sir?" Evan asked, his voice cold now.

"Cut the crap, major! You need to get your shit sorted now. Now! I can't have Moira unduly upset. She's my wife. Pregnant with my child. Nothing is going to change either of those things. However much you dislike it Moira is mine. If I wish to monopolize her time I will. If I wish to keep her to myself for hours I will. If I wish to repeatedly fuck her I will. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Evan said tersely. "And what if Moira doesn't want those things? What if she misses being a scientist? A member of my team? What if she wants to be more than Colonel Sheppard's wife and constant, constant fuck buddy?"

John frowned. Restraining himself with an effort as the phrase made his blood boil. Made a dangerous fury tense every muscle. He downed his beer. Set the bottle onto the table carefully, instead of throwing it into the other man's face. "She is still a scientist. Even I can't change that, and nor would I want to change that. She is still a member of your team until I decide otherwise. Or she does. Soon she won't be traveling much anyway. As far as I know she's very, very happy being my wife. And if you ever, ever call her a fuck buddy again, to my face or to hers, or even not in my hearing I will kill you, major."

"John! John, no!" Moira burst into the room, ran to him. She grabbed his arm as if to restrain him. Nearly falling in her haste. She froze. Stared at the two men. Looked from one to the other. Saw their locked stare at each other. Animosity. Understanding. John's brilliant green eyes were hard emeralds, so cold and dangerous she felt an involuntary shiver. "Um...what are you doing?"

"Colonel, for the love of God, man, don't do..." Carson froze in his rush after Moira. Staring.

John slowly looked at her. Eyes filling with warmth now. Protectiveness. Love. "Moira. We're just two guys having a beer. Right, Evan?"

"Right, John," Evan replied, in an equally mild tone.

"Huh? John, John, you didn't hit him, did you? Evan, are you–"

"Moira, I didn't hit him. We're just having a beer, that's all. Did Tonner deliver the food to our room?" he asked, as if he didn't have a care in the world. As if he didn't just threaten to kill the man sitting across from him.

"Yes, he..." She glanced back at Carson who appeared equally baffled. She looked at Evan. John's hand caught hers on his arm. "What were you talking about? Evan, are you sure you're all right?"

"You." John stood, keeping hold of her hand on his arm. "We understand each other now, don't we, major?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wait, me? Me? John, John, what did–"

"Let's go, Moira." He tried to lead her out of the room but she pulled back from him.

"No! What did you say? John, John–"

"Not now, Moira. Let's go," he repeated.

She looked at John. Looked back at Evan, but let John lead her out of the room. Carson followed. "I don't–"

"John, is everything all right?" Carson asked.

"Fine. We're going back to quarantine now. I'm starving. If there are any developments inform me ASAP, doc. Moira, let's go." He led her down the hallway. Grip firm, gentle, but insistent.

Moira glanced back at Carson, shrugged. Puzzled, but relieved there hadn't been any violence. She sped up to keep pace with John's long strides. "John, John, you–"

"Calm down, Moira. I handled it." He led her into their rooms. Closed the door as she pulled free to face him. "I even found you a jar of peanut butter." He smiled suggestively. "Please tell me that is for later, baby."

"John!" She stood, hands on hips. "What the hell did you do? What the hell did you say to Evan? You, you threatened him didn't you? Didn't you?"

"No. It was no threat," he said quietly. "I merely clarified a few things in regards to you. Being my wife and all." He strolled past her, sat at the table. "Ah. Still hot. Let's eat!"

Moira turned to stare as he began to eat. Devouring the chicken and potatoes. Sipping yet another beer now. She walked over, grabbed the beer from him. "Haven't you had enough?"

He met her gaze. Eyes wandering along her curves. "Hmm...I don't think I'll ever have enough."

"The beer!"she clarified angrily.

"Oh. No."

"I drive you to drink, don't I?" she sighed. Sat next to him. "We have to make this right, John. I have to make this right."

"I already did, Moy. I told you. I handled it. Now eat your dinner before it gets cold. And can I please have my beer back?"

She slid it to him, stared at the food on her uncovered plate. "I'm not hungry."

"What? You? Not hungry?"

"Hilarious, John." She pondered, elbow on the table, chin in hand as she stared at nothing. "I don't know. I honestly don't know how to make this right."

"I told you, Moy. I handled it. Don't you worry."

"You mean you bullied and blustered. Like last time. That's not handling it, John. I'll have to fix this. Fix Evan. Jason too. You can't have your men at odds with each other."

"I handled it, Moy. Give it no further thought. Now eat, please." He pushed the full plate in front of her.

She ignored it. "This doesn't make any sense. All this fuss and bother over, over me. Don't laugh, John, but you know it doesn't make any sense. I don't care what you think you know, or think you see. Evan doesn't feel that, that way about me. Never has, never will. It's not that. It's more insidious because of our friendship and being on his team and all. You see? And Jason was just defending me because he's a gentleman and because I'm his commander's wife. Is all. It doesn't make sense, John. No one gave me a second thought until, until you. Until I became involved with you. Married you. Got pregnant by you."

"So you're saying it's me. Okay, I'm fine with that, Moira. Whatever. I know what I know, even if you can't see it. You, Moira. You're a beautiful woman, Moira. Of course men are going to give you more than just second thoughts. Even being married to me. Being pregnant by me."

She met his gaze, scowling. But he was serious. Ate a spoonful of pudding. Licked his lips. "Shut up, John," she finally said, looked at nothing again.

He smiled. "Then eat. Sweetheart, please."

She sighed. Sullenly grabbed a fork. Began to eat. Found herself abruptly ravenous. John smiled, relaxing as she ate heartily, finishing off every last piece of food. Licking the fork clean of potatoes. Spooning the pudding into her mouth with enjoyment. He sipped his beer, sitting back in the chair. Blinked. Yawned.

"Wow. I think that sedative is finally kicking in," he commented. Voice slurring a little.

"You think? Or is it the three beers you've had?" she noted caustically.

He smiled as she regarded him. "Yeah, could be that too, I guess. Plus the exuberant, passionate sex. Toegasms and all, baby." He snorted with laughter. "Hey, baby, was it both feet? Was it every single toe?"

She sat back, staring at the table. "Yes, sweetie. Every single toe." But her tone was sullen. Sad. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back a tide of emotion.

John sighed. Touched her thigh. Set his beer aside. "Moira," he whined.

She stood. "No." She moved to the window, stared out at the sunset over the waters. A curtain of orange and red that filled the sky. Colored the waters with a vibrant sheen. "I'm fine! Damn hormones, is all! I can fix this, John. I just need to figure out how. I...I don't even know what I did, or didn't do! Damn it, John, I just want to be with you! I'm pregnant, John! I don't need any more stress or aggravation!"

He moved to her. Wrapped his arms around her. Drew her close. "I know, sweetheart. Relax. I told you. I handled it. All of it. Don't you worry. It's done. You didn't do or not do anything."

"What?"

"You know what I mean. All you need to think about is John junior. Yourself. Me."

"Oh? That's all?" she scoffed.

"Yes." He ran kisses up her throat. Moving her hair out of the way. "That's all," he whispered into her ear. "Oh. And sex. Lots of sex with me, baby. Toegasms and all."

She smiled despite her mood. "That's the problem, sweetie."

"What? Toegasms?"

"No! No...the, the sex."

"Sex is never a problem, baby." He kissed down her throat. Hands sliding up to cup her breasts. "Moira...let's go to bed."

"No. We've been selfish, John. I've been selfish," she realized.

"So? Don't we have a right to be?" He turned her to him. Kissed her. A slow, long kiss. Hands sliding to her back. Down to her rear to squeeze. "Nothing is going to interfere, Moira. No one is going to intrude on our little circle here." He kissed her again. Again. "Just relax, Moira. I won't let anything or anyone keep you from me."

"John...you..." she whispered, fingers sliding up his chest. She kissed him. Tired of arguing, worrying. Just wanting him. "Oh John..." she sighed.

He smiled. "Oh Moira. It's just us now...and John junior. Let's go to bed, sweetheart. I'll be out in five with this buzz so if you want me you'd better take me now."

She smiled. "Really, John? We'd better hurry, then, before your ordnance becomes a liability. We better oh no! We can't! Don't you see? We–"

He kissed her. "Four and counting, baby. We can do whatever we damn like or want. So?" He pulled her to the bed. Pushed her gently onto it. Followed. "Three," he reminded. Kissed her. Hands roaming.

"John, oh John...we, we have to be quiet, we have to oh oh," she moaned as his fingers wandered over her breasts, then between her legs. His kisses sloppily slid across her ear, her throat.

"Two..." he said low, becoming aroused despite his weariness and drowsiness. "My Moira...my own sweet Moira," he wooed. Catching her mouth with his. "One..." he muttered, shifting on her. Abruptly settled, face buried in her hair, on her breasts.

"John? John?" She nudged him. Laughed gently as he snorted, shifted. "Okay, then, colonel." She patted his shoulder, easing herself out from under him. She snuggled next to him as he sprawled on his stomach, already beginning to snore. "Men," she sighed fondly.


	9. Chapter 9

Inhibition9

_Moira stood close to the bed. Adjusted the blanket around the two little boys. They were sound asleep, cuddled together like puppies. Mirror images of each other, one older by a few years. Mirror images of their father. As he once had been. When he had been fully human. _

_She turned, exited the adjoining room, closed the door. Walked over to the bed as her heart pounded with trepidation, with sorrow. Feared the consequences if they were discovered. If he was discovered to be gone from his cell. "John?" _

_John was seated in the bed. The darkness concealing his features, both human and Wraith. He was something in between how, halted by desperate measures that were proving futile to reverse his condition. He was staring at her. Could see her as clearly as if all the lights were on in the room. "Off. Now."_

_She knew what he meant. What he wanted. Needed. She swallowed. Nervously removed her nightshirt. Could feel his yellow, alien eyes raking over every inch of her naked body. She gulped, got into the bed next to him. Settling on her back, forcing down the queasiness. The fear. John moved over her suddenly. His mouth on hers, half human, half not. His body on hers. Human skin and Wraith scales rubbing. Scraping. Then the abrupt penetration. Moira clung, wincing as he growled, grunted with every motion._

_Men were running. Boots pounded the floor. Searching with intent efficiency. The door was opened. Lights flared, bright spots from raised P90s even as the room was flooded with its own illumination. John freed her, rolling off her, quick as a cat. Moira sat, gasped. Covered her naked body with the blankets from the bed. Evan strode into the room, past the other staring marines. His expression of disgust colored by surprise as John emerged from the blankets, sitting next to her. The lights revealing the extent of his mutations._

_This wasn't the John she knew. This was a horribly mutated half-Wraith, half-human John. Eyes once a brilliant green were now yellow slits, almost feline as he blinked against the brightness. Part of his skin was composed of bluish scales. Lining one half of his face, half of his chest. One arm completely covered by the weird mutations, ending in a no longer human hand with long, dark nails. Rough skin that had rubbed her raw when he had taken her. _

_Evan fired his gun. Moira screamed. John fell back, blood flowing over the blankets._

Moira jerked upright, the scream trapped in her throat, on her lips. Heart pounding wildly. She looked at John. He was fully clothed as she was. Sprawled on his back, snoring. Very alive. Very handsome. The only thing marring his skin was the dark shadows of stubble lining his jaw. "John? John!" She nudged him. He snorted, rolled onto his side away from her. Moira put a hand to her chest, trying to calm down from the vivid nightmare.

She heard a noise. Stared at the door. Saw movement. Shadows crossing the light back and forth. Back and forth. Heard footsteps. Stealthy. She gulped. Scrambled off the bed and ran to John's room. Grabbed the 9mm handgun and ran back to the bed. Sat next to her husband. She held the gun pointed at the door. Waiting. Waiting.

John stirred. Rolled onto his back. Uncomfortable. He woke, feeling his rumpled clothes. Boots still on his feet. Raw taste in his mouth from the beer. He looked at Moira. She was sitting next to him, holding a gun on the door. He looked around the room. Did a quick double take. "Moira? Sweetheart, what is it?" he asked, abruptly alert. Seeing her tense stance. Her finger on the trigger. Gaze glued to the door.

"I heard a noise."

He slowly sat, not wanting to inadvertently jostle or frighten her. "A noise made you draw my gun?" he asked.

"No. The nightmare did."

"Oh. What nightmare?"

"I heard a noise," she repeated. "Look! The door. Someone's there. Outside the door," she whispered. "Don't you worry, sweetie. I won't let it happen. I won't!"

"Let what happen?" he wondered. He stared at the door. Saw the shadows breaking the light. Back and forth. Back and forth. Heard a footstep. "I'll be damned. Give me the gun, Moy."

She hesitated, looked at him. Did so. "What–"

"Ssh." He checked it, frowned and clicked on the safety. "Stay put." He stood. Moved with silent, fluid grace to the door. Stood a moment, listening. Heard the creak of a boot. A shuffle. He glanced back at Moira. She was frozen, staring. He nodded. Held up his hand, a gesture for her to remain where she was. He looked back at the door. Waved it open. Raised the gun. Finger poised on the trigger.

"Sir!" The startled marine nearly dropped his P90. Staggered backwards.

John lowered the gun, eyed him. "Tonner?"

"Yes, sir! Sir! Sorry, sir! Did I disturb you, sir?" The man was almost visibly sweating.

"What are you doing here?" John asked mildly.

"Sir! Doctor Beckett suggested sentries on all of the men affected by the pulse wave, sir. I was assigned yours, sir. By Doctor Weir, sir. As a precaution, sir. Not that you need a guard, sir. Not that you need to be watched, sir. Or your wife, sir. No one is watching her, sir. No one! No one is even remotely watching your, your, your wife, sir, sir!"

John tried not to smirk as the man's face reddened. "I see. Very well, Tonner. Resume your duty."

"Yes, sir! Goodnight, sir!"

John closed the door, snorting his amusement at the man's extreme nervousness. "Stand down, Moy. It's all right. Carson's just being cautious, and rightly so. There's nothing to worry about. Not a thing." He moved back to the bed. Set the gun on the table. Began to remove his boots with a grunt. "What nightmare, Moira?"

"I...sorry, John..." her voice trailed off as she watched him.

He dropped one boot to the floor. Removed the other. "What nightmare?" he repeated. "Let me guess. The same one as before? Staring my mutated self?" The other boot hit the floor with a thud.

"Yes. But...but another scene. You...you were killed. Shot. Right here. Beside me."

He looked over at her, turning. She was staring at him. Tears in her brown eyes. "Wow. Here?" He patted the bed. She nodded. "Shit. Wait...you...I was mutated and you...we...wow."

Moira shrugged. "I...I don't know...I..." She shuddered, recalling the memory of that nightmare. The abrasive feel of the scales on her. In her. Almost brutal. She shivered, hugged herself.

John scooted next to her. Reclined. "Come here, Moy. It was only a dream. A nightmare. We have contingency plans, sweetheart, remember? It won't happen." She silently nestled into his arms, needing the very human feel of him. "Who? Who shot me? Ah. Of course. Evan."

"How did you...damn. I forgot how smart you really are, John. You...you can't let it affect you. It was a nightmare, of a future that might not even–"

"I know. As you should know." He kissed her brow. "Go to sleep, Moy. I guess those fucking pulse waves finally affected you as well."

"John...don't you worry. I won't let it happen. I won't!" she vowed, fingers clutching at his t-shirt. "I'll find a way, I'll find a way to stop it, to prevent it, to–" she proclaimed in a strenuous voice.

"All right, sweetheart, I'm sure you will. We won't let any of it happen. Relax." He caressed her back. "You've pulled a gun twice so far. I have to say I'm impressed, Moira. Surprised, but impressed."

"Shut up, John."

"I'll have to train you on a P90 next, I'm thinking."

"Shut up, John."

"Although I'm not so sure a P90 in the hands of a pregnant woman is a good idea."

She kissed him. "Shut up and go to sleep, sweetie. All right?"

"All right." He paused, waited. Waited. "Gunslinger."

She snorted. "Hilarious, John."

He laughed. "It is, Moy. Locked and loaded, baby, that's how I like my women."

"That's how I like your ordnance, sweetie."

He laughed. "Let me see your stance, baby. So fucking sexy."

"Get over it, would you?" She pulled free, turned away from him. "Go to sleep, colonel!"

He scooted close, spooning against her. Slid his hand down along her hip. Rested it on the baby bump. "As ordered, Moira. Just don't shoot me."

"If you don't stop it I will,"she threatened. Snuggled back against him. Caught his hand. "I won't let it happen, John. I won't." She stared forlornly at the dark, even as the images faded.

"All right, sweetheart, you won't." He kissed her. "Nor will I." He gently caressed the baby bump, then slid his hand up to her breasts. "You know, Moira, I've been thinking about the peanut butter. I don't think it will work. Because of the consistency. Caramel is much smoother. Easier to lick." He kissed her throat.

She smiled, amused at his serious tone. She caught his hand, stopping his questing fingers. "I see. Well, colonel, you certainly have given this careful thought, haven't you?"

"Yes, doctor. Don't you forget how smart I am." He closed his eyes. "We'll have to experiment. Tomorrow. Peanut butter. Caramel. Sex. No guns."

"Okay, John. No guns," she agreed. Trying to relax in his arms. The press of his body to hers. His warmth and solidity reassuring. Real.

"Unless that turns you on, baby. You know I think it turns me on, actually, you with a–"

"John!" she scolded, smacking his hand. He chuckled against her skin. "Go to sleep, please!"

"Sorry. I'm trying, but the image of you with a gun is giving me a hard-on," he teased, shoving himself against her.

"Will you put that damn thing away and go to sleep?" she flared, but smiled at his teasing. "And it would help if you stopped talking."

"It would? Huh. I should have thought of that."

"Hilarious, John. Shut up!"

He laughed. Kissed her cheek. "As ordered, Moira. My Moira. My sexy little gunslinger."


	10. Chapter 10

Inhibition10

Moira woke. Found herself wrapped in John's arms as they lay facing each other. Clothing all rumpled, wrinkled by the night of sleep. She nudged him. "John? John?"

He stirred. "Ten minutes, Moy. Peanut butter?"

She smiled, kissed him. "Not yet, sweetie. I'll give you ten." She freed herself, moved to shower. Put on clean clothes. She returned to the bed. John was sprawled on his stomach, fast asleep. She lightly kissed his cheek, left him.

She braced herself. Knocked on Evan's door as the marine guarding it moved aside with a nod. She waited. "Evan? It's Moira. Moira Sheppard," she needlessly clarified, wondering why she had said that. She glanced at the marine again. The man was staring stoically ahead, but glanced over as the door opened.

Evan stood. Clad in a pair of dark blue pajamas. Bare feet. His hair mussed by a sleepless night. He blinked. Eyed her. "I know who you are, Moira. Colonel Sheppard made that quite clear last night."

"He did?" She looked at the marine, shooed him away with her hand. "I'm fine," she insisted.

The man hesitated, then moved a few paces away from them. She looked back at Evan. "What did he say? Exactly?"

"Exactly? That he listens to you from time to time when he's not busy fucking you. That you are his. His wife. Carrying his child. That if he wishes to monopolize your time he will. That if he wishes to keep you to himself for hours and hours he will. That if he wishes to repeatedly fuck you he will. That's about it. Oh, and some other stuff about killing me if I called you his fuck buddy again. Oops. Guess I'm in for it now."

Moira blinked. Stared. "Oh. Thank you, Evan." She abruptly turned, strode down the hallway. More upset at his tone than the actual words. Startling as they were, but not too surprising considering John and his overly possessive, protective mood. Knew that the term fuck buddy would piss him off to no end, and she was surprised he hadn't resorted to violence because of it. Evan's tone had been bitter, sarcastic. Not like himself at all.

She reached another door, knocked as the guard nodded at her, stepping aside. "Major Reynolds? It's Moira. Moira Shep–"

The door opened. Jason smiled. Clad in his BDUs he appeared to have had a restful night's sleep. "Doctor Sheppard? Is everything all right? Please," he indicated for her to enter, stepping aside.

Moira walked into the room. The contrast between Evan and Jason extended to their rooms as well. The glimpse Moira had gotten of Evan's was a mess. Jason's was tidy. Almost Spartan. "Thank you, major. I wanted to thank you for your intervention yesterday," she stated.

"Oh? That's hardly necessary, doctor. No one should be spoken to like that. Especially not a woman. Especially not Colonel Sheppard's wife."

She watched him, hands clasped together over the baby bump under her heavy sweater. "Major, do you have a scientist on your team?"

He stared, thrown by the question. "Uh, no, doctor. I've requested one but so far no such luck."

She smiled. "If you don't mind I'd like to um, join your team. Insofar as I can offer what I can...and can still travel safely and won't be a liability."

"Oh! You...oh! I would like that very much, doctor. But you are assigned to Lorne's team," he reminded, curious at her decision.

"Yes. I wish to move to your team. Now I know there's some paperwork or such and some kind of chain of command thing but you–"

"Yes, doctor, the chain of command," he agreed. "I would have to make the request of Colonel Sheppard. Does he know?"

"Um, no." An awkward pause. Moira eyed the floor. "I just came to the decision. So you would have to make the request?" she asked, meeting his gaze again.

He nodded. "Yes. If that's what you want you would be more than welcome, doctor. In fact I'll make the request today if you like."

"Yes, thank you, major. If Colonel Sheppard gives you any flak over it send him to me. I'll be in the bio lab or the Wraith lab all day."

"I'm sure he won't, doctor. Thank you. I look forward to working with you."

"Thank you for having me, major. Now I'd better get to work." She headed for the door, turned back to him. Smiled. "Don't be thanking me yet, major. You haven't heard the list of rules from John yet."

He smiled. "Thanks for the warning." They shared a laugh as she departed.

John swung the sticks, back and forth, back and forth. Oddly energized after his heavy sleep. After awakening alone in their bed. Certain that Moira was fine, was secure he showered, shaved, dressed. Devoured breakfast and decided to spar with Ronon. He smiled. Feet shifting smoothly under him. Blocking Ronon's attacks and landing a big hit on the Satedan's leg. He grinned at his friend's surprise.

Ronon stepped back, assessing. "You must have some issues to work out," he noted.

"Yeah, you could say that," John agreed. He swung the sticks, twirling them. "Come on!"

"Okay." The sticks clattered, clattered against each other as the two men circled. Faster. Faster. Narrowly missing each other. Narrowly missing inflicting serious damage to each other. Jason entered. Waited, watching as the two men inflicted multiple strikes against each other. Circling warily now. Sticks clattering. Ronon glanced at him, grimaced as a stick whacked his arm. "Trouble with Moira?" he asked.

John blocked a blow to his head. "No. Never. Not at all."

"Someone else then?"

"It will be you if you don't stop talking!" John retorted. "Why are you so chatty anyway?"

Ronon smiled. "Teyla says I should work on my people skills." The sticks clattered. Ronon dove, swooped and struck John on the leg. Grinned as John swore, staggered, hopped but resumed his attack.

John noticed Jason waiting. He slowed, stepped back, sticks held defensively. "Well, I'd rather work on this kind of skill. Hang on." He motioned the man forward. "Reynolds?"

Jason stepped to him, glancing at Ronon. "Sir. Sorry to interrupt. I have a request for a reassignment of personnel."

"You do?" John twirled the sticks in his hands. "Don't tell me. Lewis complaining about his bum knee again?"

"No, sir. Doctor Sheppard has requested to be transferred to my team. I'd happily accept, pending your approval, sir."

"Moira? She's on Lorne's team," Ronon noted, glancing at John who had gone still.

"Yes. But apparently she wishes to quit that team and join mine."

"Did she give any reason?" John asked quietly.

"No, sir. She said she'd be in the bio lab if any, um, if any flak occurred."

"Oh. All right, major. Transfer is approved. Fill out the paperwork. I'll talk to you later about it."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You won't be thanking me once she starts on one of her scientific rambles." The men laughed.

Ronon eyed his friend. "What was that about?" he asked after Jason had left.

"Hell if I know." John sighed. "But I'd better find out, I guess." He tossed the sticks onto the bench, grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow, his neck. He strolled to the bio lab, heedless of his appearance. More intent upon finding his wife and the reason for her sudden turnabout. Directed to the Wraith lab he entered quietly. He smiled.

Moira was seated at a table, comparing two screens of data. Her heavy sweater was draped behind her. Revealing the snug green t-shirt and khaki pants she wore. Her hair was loose, spilling all around her as she leaned forward on the stool. She bit her lower lip. John waited for that small, soft sound to escape her lips. Felt a wave of desire as he heard it. As his gaze wandered over every curve, every swell of her body. "Son of a bitch," she muttered.

John grinned. "Wow. I haven't even done anything yet. Have I?"

Startled Moira looked over at him, fingers fumbling on the keyboard. "John! John, no. Not you! This." Her gaze lingered on his unkempt appearance. Slightly sweaty. Hair disordered. A shadow of scruff already a hint on his face. Black t-shirt stained with sweat, clinging to his lean torso, his muscled arms. Broad shoulders. His grey sweat pants clinging to his long legs. To his hips. A towel was draped around his neck. She stared as a bead of sweat slid along one sideburn to trail along his jaw, then his neck.

"What? That?" John pointed at the screen but his gaze was locked on hers. Seeing her desire. Her love. Until his gaze lowered to her rosy lips. Down to her fuller breasts perfectly outlined in the snug green t-shirt. He could see the lines of the bra she wore underneath it. He could see her nipples jutting against the fabric as they became hard suddenly. Until she suddenly turned away from him.

"Yes. This." She swallowed suddenly. Tapped the screen. "The pulse wave transmissions are nearly identical to the enzyme's chemical affect. Nearly. The strange thing is this. The red line here?" She pointed. "Indicative of the activity in our lower brain functioning. That's different."

"Oh." He touched her lower back. Caressed. "Sweetheart, what's this I hear about you wanting to join Reynolds and his team?"

She hesitated. Eyes on the screen in front of her. Feeling his fingers. Every gentle motion on her back. Against the fabric of her t-shirt. "I want to join Reynolds and his team. At least until I can't travel on missions because of the, the pregnancy."

"Hmm. Why?"

Moira kept her eyes on the screen. John stepped closer, still caressing. She tried to ignore his messy sexiness. "Why? Because in a few months I'll be a liability to any team because of the–"

"No, I know that. I meant why do you all of a sudden want to quit Lorne for Reynolds?" He waited. "Moira?"

"I...I talked to Evan."

"What? When?"

"This morning."

"And?"

"He told me."

John sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon. "Told you what, exactly?"

"Exactly. Exactly what you said to him. Verbatim. Word for word."

"I know that means!" He paused. "Oh." She was silent, still staring at the screen. "Um, Moira, look...about what I said to him...I'm sorry, but it needed saying and I–"

"Are you?" She finally met his gaze. "Are you sorry, John? Do you regret what you said? Didn't you mean any of it?"

"No! I mean yes! No! I don't regret it. I meant every word. I'm sorry, Moira, but it needed to be said."

"Then don't apologize, John. It's fine." She looked back at the screen.

"Fine? So...you're not mad at me?" he tested. His fingers traveled up her back to tangle in her hair.

"No."

"I don't believe you, Moy. After a quick conversation with him you just decide to quit his team and join Reynolds? What else did he say to you?"

"Nothing."

"Did he call you anything? I swear if he so much as looked at you in the wrong way I will–"

"No. Nothing like that. He told me what you said. That's all. So...you'll approve the transfer?" she asked. Met his bewildered gaze. Furrowed brow. Narrowed green eyes.

"Yes. Of course. If that's what you want."

"It is."

"Moy, talk to me. Why did you decide this now? Today? After hearing that? I know you are upset. If there's a Moira storm brewing I need to know. I'll batten down the hatches and raise the shield."

She smiled. "No need, John. There's no storm."

"Are you sure? Moy?"

"I'm sure." She shut the data screens. Turned to him. Saw his concern, his puzzlement. She touched his chest. "What have you been doing to make you all sweaty and sexy?"

"Sexy? I was working out. With Ronon. Sticks. Moira, if you need to–"

"I'm tired, John."

"Tired? Then let's take a nap, baby."

"No. I mean I'm tired. Of all of this." She sighed. Stood. Pulled on her sweater to his disappointment.

"All of what?" he asked, feeling lost again. "Moira?"

"Come with me, sweetie. You need a shower."

"Okay, Moira." He followed her to their rooms. "I really wish you would explain yourself to me, sweetheart. Moira?" He caught her arm after they had entered their quarters.

She turned to him. Smiled. Eyes roving over him. "John...oh John...I've been considering your theory."

"Theory? What theory?" he asked, baffled again.


	11. Chapter 11

Inhibition11

Moira pulled the towel from him. Dropped it to the floor. "Your theory, colonel. About peanut butter versus caramel," she purred. Stepping closer. She reached up on tiptoe to run her tongue up his jaw to his ear, tasting his sweat.

"Oh? Oh..." he realized. Smiled.

She ran her hands up his chest. Nails raking along the sweaty confines of his snug shirt. "John." She kissed him. Savoring his lips, their softness, their fullness. "Let's test that theory, shall we, colonel? From a purely scientific point of view, of course."

"Of course," he agreed as she backed him up to the bed. "Um, Moira? Moira, are you–"

She kissed him again. "Yes, oh yes, sweetie. Skip the shower. My God you are gorgeous! So gorgeous, John, it shouldn't be allowed." She pushed him onto the bed. Moved over him, kissing him. Murmuring as her hands wandered. As her body pressed into his.

John returned her kisses, scooting with her up the bed to the pillows. "Moira...um...not that I would like nothing better than to test this theory but we really should talk about oh fuck," he groaned as she kissed his throat, licking up to circle his ear. To bite. Bite harder as her other hand slid down his thigh to grasp his reaction. Squeezing slightly to make him moan.

Moira sat. Smiled. "Back in a sec, sweetie. Get those fucking clothes off, would you?"

He smirked. "Moira? Are you–"

"Don't you dare deny the pregnant woman, John. Trust me, sweetie, it will be worth it. Now strip." She kissed him again. Slid off him and moved into his room.

John smiled, anticipating the love play. The teasing. The sex. Deciding he sat, pulled off his clothes. Kicked off his shoes. Touched his shorts, debating. Already becoming aroused by her seductions. He stood, uncertain. Watched her emerge from his room. He stared. Moira had on a sheer, sheer white linen shirt, sloppily buttoned. It fell to her thighs. Her legs and feet were bare. As she moved to the bed he caught a glimpse of very skimpy pale blue panties, sheer as well. "Fuck," he muttered happily.

Moira moved to the dresser. "Shorts too, sweetie, unless you don't want your ordnance to be involved."

"Moira...exactly what are you planning?"

She turned to him. Held up the manacles. A jar of peanut butter.

John's smile broadened. "Oh baby...kinky sex? Kinky sex now? Now? I mean...now?"

She walked over to him. "Is that a no, John?" She tilted her head, eying him up and down, up and down. "Is John Sheppard saying no to kinky?"

He smirked. "John Sheppard always says yes to kinky, baby."

She smiled. "Then get on the fucking bed, sweetie. And lose the shorts, cute as they are." She smirked at the pink and blue stripes.

"Hilarious, Moira." He licked his lips. "You better be nearly naked under there."

She dipped her finger into the jar. Produced a glob of peanut butter. She slid it into her mouth. Sucked. Sucked. Moaned.

John stared. Softly groaned. Gaze riveted on her mouth. On her finger sliding in and out, in and out. "Fuck, baby..." He yanked off his shorts and reclined on the bed.

Moira smirked as his interest was all too evident now. She moved over him. Kissed him. "Relax, sweetie." She slid up, hooked the manacles to the headboard. Took one wrist and secured it above his head in the handcuff. John was trying to see under the shirt as it gaped open in places. He caught a glimpse of her bare breast until she moved. Straddling his chest to take his other wrist. She paused, fingers on the black wristband. "You know, John, you don't have to wear this on account of me. I mean, I 've seen the scars," she noted.

"I know, baby. It's a fashion statement now. Don't you think it makes me look mysterious? Dangerous?"

She smiled. "Sure, sweetie." She kept hold of his hand, dipped his finger into the nearby jar. Lifted his finger with the glob of peanut butter to her lips. Inserted it. Sucked, sucked. John groaned, shifting under her. Reacting vividly as she shifted on him. She gently bit his finger. Freed his hand and secured it to the manacle. "Okay, sweetie. You know about the push button release. So don't break the headboard. And you know the safe word." She slyly smiled. "Hmm..do you want a taste first?"

"Yes." He watched her dip her finger into the jar. Cover it with peanut butter. She moved her finger to her lips, paused. Smiled. Opened the shirt. Unbuttoned another button. To his delight smeared the peanut butter over a bare breast. Covering her rosy nipple.

"Now do you want a taste, sweetie?" she purred, voice sultry.

"God yes!" he answered huskily. He lifted his head as she leaned down, down. He kissed her breast, rattling the chains as he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked greedily.

Moira moaned softly, arching into him, pressing herself on his chest so he could feel her wetness through the panties. She pulled back suddenly as he freed her. "Well?"

"Delicious. Peanut butter with a swirl of Moira."

She kissed him. Moved up on her knees over him. Fingered another glob of the peanut butter. John watched in tense anticipation. Wondering what she would do, where she would go. Moira smeared it on her upper thigh. "Want another taste, sweetie?"

"Oh fuck yes!" he enthused happily. Rattled the chains.

"Hmm..okay, John. Oh John," she said softly, drawing out his name, "could you remove my panties as well?"

He grinned. "Fuck yes, baby!"

She scooted up, up so he could reach. She caught hold of the headboard. John lifted his head and kissed up her thigh. Licking. Nibbling the peanut butter trail to her panties. He grunted, growled as he breathed deeply. The scent of her arousal flooding him with lust. Need. Her soft sounds made him dive into her. Mouthing the panties, nibbling and teasing. Moira shifted, gyrating as he teased, taunted. She gasped as he gently bit. Carefully caught the panties in his teeth and pulled, pulled, lowering his head. She wiggled as they slid down, down.

John freed the material as he got an eyeful of her until she moved off him. Removed them and set them near the pillow. "Fuck, baby...nice and wet and–"

She slid over him, kissing him. Kiss after kiss as if she would devour his mouth. Her hands running in his hair, along his arms, his chest, his sides. He slid his tongue into her mouth. But she moved to nibble up his throat, to circle his ear and bite until he shifted under her. She sat. Smeared some peanut butter on his inner arm. "Test run, sweetie, to test the consistency." She slid her mouth along it. Nibbling. Nibbling.

John moaned at the seductions. Her mouth tickling his arm. Her hair falling all about them like a silken caress. Her body pressing onto his.

Moira scooted down to his waist. "Hmm...I see what you mean, sweetie. About consistency. Tell me, John," she drew out his name again as her fingers ran down his chest, his waist, nails slightly scratching, "were you this way with your lots some women?"

"Huh?" John had been reveling in the erotic sensations. Staring at her as the shirt gaped to reveal her breasts. The feel of her warm, soft body on his.

She scooted lover, brushing over his erection to make him groan loudly. "Ssh, colonel! Quiet or you won't get off the way you want!"

"Sorry, baby...damn..."

She smeared some peanut butter on his thigh. "Answer the question, colonel. You know, sweetie, I was never this kinky, or bold, or brazen until I met you."

"I know," he smugly agreed. Swore softly as she kissed up his thigh, nibbling the peanut butter.

"Oh fuck! Fuck Moira! Fuck, that is so–"

"Ssh!" She sat. "I'm not kidding, John! Quiet! Can't you follow orders, colonel?"

"Yes, ma'am. Keep going, please."

"Did you ever do these kinds of things with your lots some women?"

"Yes. Some. More or less."

"Hmm." She drew a glob of peanut butter onto her fingers as he watched. Captivated. "Some liked it less? Some more?"

"Yes..." His voice was strained as he watched her. Wanted her. The chains rattled.

"Did any of them choose caramel?"

He smiled. "No, baby. That's yours alone. Moira's kinky caramel."

"Good answer, sweetie." She smeared the glob onto his erection, smoothing it along his hard length. "How many went down on you?" she asked, almost sounding bored. "John?"

He groaned, pursed his lips together to quiet his arousal as he began to throb. The anticipation was even worse then her stroking fingers as she slathered him in peanut butter. His body was tense, every muscle straining. Yearning for her. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck um, um, some. A few...damn it, Moira, just fuck me!"

"Ssh! I was just curious, John. Just curious." She slid down, kissing his pelvic bone. Down lower. Lower. John rattled the chains, yanking at them. The headboard hit the wall. He lifted his head to watch her. His head fell back as he moaned. As she kissed up his erection. Began to nibble. Delicate motions of her mouth along the hard length of him.

John lost himself in ecstasy. Pleasure mounting as she nibbled, nibbled. Up towards the head. He tensed, arching some, moving. Lifted his head again to see her taking him into her mouth suddenly. He grunted, gasped. Moira sucked. Sucked hard at the peanut butter. Her tongue swirling. Her lips sliding up and down him. Biting now to remove the peanut butter. Biting all along him, up towards the head.

John groaned loudly, falling back onto the bed. The chains rattling wildly as he yanked in response. Writhing and thrusting. His cock throbbing between pleasure and pain as her bites became harder, harder still. He bucked as she reached the sensitive head and bit down, pressing so hard he gasped, felt tears as the surge of lust, pain, pleasure, release. He was coming hard, fast, couldn't stop. Jerking wildly in her mouth now, thrusting into her. "Fuck!" The word exploded out of him as her teeth bit all along him again, a rough wooing to bring him. To make him beg, to make him plead. Engorged now, so hard he thought he'd die. Tears spotted his vision and he closed his eyes, moaning like a man in pain, in pleasure. Caught between the two, unable to tell the difference. "Strawberries." The safe word escaped his lips without him even knowing it.

Until he felt her absence suddenly. The cool air on his wet, hard cock. Bobbing wildly in the air like an exclamation. Spurting a little as a tiny spasm shook him. Made him shiver. "Moira?" he croaked, opening his eyes. Lifting his head to see her. She was wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Looking irritated. Beautiful. "What?" he rasped.

"You were right. Peanut butter is much less lickable than caramel. You really have to bite down on it," she informed. Voice serious.

"I know..." he enthused. "Moira...Moira, please...please, baby...you...please..."

She slowly smiled, gaze roving over every inch of him. She slid up, gently kissed his lips. "As ordered, colonel," she whispered into his ear. Slid back down his body. Began to kiss along his erection again. Tasting traces of peanut butter, arousal, sweat. John groaned, shifting. Shifting in renewed tension. She nibbled, nibbled. Teasing, tormenting as he squirmed. The chains rattling noisily. The headboard slamming the wall.

John nearly shouted, an inarticulate sound of pleasure, pain, delight when she took him into her mouth again. Biting and swirling. Her fingers clawing his thighs now, then sliding between his legs to feel every intimate part of him. To cup the heaviness, tickling until he thought he'd die again. Biting and biting up and up to the head. At that moment John didn't care if she bit off his cock or not, as long as she brought him the release he so desperately needed. Craved. He bucked, groaned, fell back. Closed his eyes, arching up into her as the rush to orgasm proceeded.

The release came. He couldn't stop it. He groaned, grunted. Thrusting wildly now. Thrusting hard into that tight, hot, moist place. Faster and faster, harder. He felt muscles squeezing on him now, riding him hard, riding him fast. He opened his eyes suddenly, fearing he would throw Moira to the floor. He stared. Moira had freed him from her mouth. Only to take him into her now. Was riding him hard, fast. Her soft sounds escalating wildly as she gyrated, bouncing and bouncing. Swaying as if she would fall. John swiftly undid the manacles, slid his arms down. Grabbed her rear and squeezed.

Moira's eyes flew open, feeling his hands on her rear. Guiding her, supporting her. He lifted, thrusting harder, deeper. Slid his hands round to grab hers. She pushed into them, pressing them to the bed as their fingers entwined, as their bodies entwined. Tangled in passion, in need. She cried out as she came, the climax a sharp rush pulsing along her body. As John pulsed repeatedly in her. Until he slowed, slackened. Shuddered with the last gasps of lust. Moira lifted, freeing herself from him. Fell upon him, freeing her hands.

John tried to catch his breath. He was drenched in sweat, in saliva, in sexual fluids. Moira's hot body a weight on him, but one he welcomed. The pleasure leaving him speechless, spent. Unable to move, to even think. His hands stroking her back, sliding under the shirt to feel her naked flesh. "Fuck," he whispered.

Moira murmured against his skin. Shifted. Moved to eye him. "Oh John. Oh John..." She kissed up his throat. "That's how you fuck a colonel," she whispered into his ear.


	12. Chapter 12

Inhibition12

John weakly laughed. Resting. He sighed happily as Moira slid off him. Rolled onto her back. She sighed. John heard the tone. Turned his head to look at her. "What?" he asked gruffly. Gaze roving but she closed the shirt over her.

"That was okay, I guess."

"WHAT?" He turned to her, expecting a smirk of humor, but she appeared serious. "What?" he repeated in a quieter voice. "Moy? You fuck my brains out, my balls off, my cock into such ecstasy I thought I was going to die and it was just okay for you?"

She met his gaze. But a smile was forming. She snorted, giggling.

He laughed, as relief swept through him. But he scowled. "That was not funny, Moira! That's it!"

"John?" she asked, enjoying his mock anger.

"You've just earned yourself a spanking, baby. That pert little ass is going to be blue! And then I am going to give you such a climax, baby, that you will be heard all over Atlantis!"

She laughed. "Really, colonel? Like you could get it up right now?" She glanced down at his cock. Quietly resting in the nest of dark hair. At ease.

He did the same. Shrugged. "Well...maybe not now...I guess." He sighed.

Moira laughed again. Kissed him. "Sorry, colonel."

He stretched, sprawling. "Ah fuck that was amazing! Amazing, Moira! So fucking sweet! Give me ten, no. Twenty. To re-cooperate."

"What, twenty hours?" she teased.

"Hilarious, baby! I love this bed! I would marry you for this bed. Oh wait. I did."

"Hilarious, sweetie!" She sat. Wiped her brow. "God I need a shower!"

He laughed. "You're telling me? Fuck that was hot!" He closed his eyes. "Ah baby...give me at least ten. You've drained me. And I intend to return the favor."

She smiled. Kissed him. "Okay, sweetie. Get your ten. Only because you are such a fantastic fuck." He laughed happily. She laughed, scrambled off the bed. Moved round to his side of it. "Oh colonel? Here. Your trophy."

"Ah." He kept his eyes closed as she placed her soiled panties into his open hand. His fingers closed over them. "Ah, perfect. Nice and wet, baby. Gushing and sweet."

"Pervert!" He laughed. She kissed him again. Moved to the bathroom.

John heard the water running. Was tempted to join her but was too comfortable, too relaxed. Already slipping into a sated doze. He stretched, sprawling happily in the big bed. Impressed with the sex. With what Moira had done, how far she had gone. Wondered if it was the pulse wave affecting her. Didn't care as the pleasure had been breathtaking. He let the sounds of the shower lull him to sleep.

Moira emerged at last. Feeling clean, comfortable. Still startled by her boldness, her lust for her husband. Pleased at his ecstatic pleasure. She combed her hair. Debated what to wear. She entered their room. John was asleep on his stomach. Arms and legs spread wide. She laughed quietly. Crossed to his room. Pulled on an old t-shirt of his, finding it roomy, comfortable. Sexy as it just covered her thighs, her rear. She moved back to their bed. Sat near. Smacked his rear. "Colonel!"

John grunted, jolted awake. He turned his head to look at her. Recognized the blue t-shirt. "Hey. That's mine."

"As is everything underneath it," she teased, causing him to smile. "Get that fine, fine ass in gear, colonel. Or do you plan to spend all day in bed?"

"Depends. Will you join me?"

"No. Will you move, John? I've got to get properly dressed but first I need to make the bed. Again!"

He sighed. "Do I have to move?" he whined, pouting.

"Yes!" She touched his bare back, pulling down the covers. Ran her fingers along him. "Wow. I really scratched you." She frowned at the long marks.

"Yeah. Kitty cat. Howled like one too when I ouch!" he complained as she smacked his rear.

"Shut up and move!"

He laughed as she stood. He rolled, sprang to his feet. Kissed her and sauntered to the bathroom. "As ordered, baby."

"Damn that is one fine, fine ass, colonel!" she called. Laughed as he snorted his amusement. She made the bed, straightening the sheets, the blankets. The pillows. Eyed the manacles still dangling from the headboard as she heard the water running. Then heard his hearty laughter. "What the..." She moved to the bathroom. "John? You're not too giddy, are you, sweetie?"

"No!" He laughed. "Come look at this, Moy! My little tigress has sharp teeth as well as sharp claws. No wonder I couldn't control it."

"What?" She moved to the shower. Eyed his body through the curtain. He was a lean, long form drenched in suds and water. She swallowed.

He opened the curtain to smile at her. "Come here. I won't bite. At least not like you."

"What?" She peered in as he turned. "What...oh." She blushed. "Oh shit!"

He laughed, pointing. Faint bite marks ran all along his cock. "Wow, baby. I mean...wow. That one might leave a mark." He pointed at the deeper bite mark near the head. A redder indentation on his flesh. He smirked at her shocked expression. Her flustered reaction amusing. Arousing. "It's all right, Moy. In fact it turns me on like you wouldn't believe!"

"I'm sorry, John! Oh my God, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, meeting his gaze. Brown eyes wide with shock, mortified at what she had done.

"It's all right, baby," he assured. "At least you didn't mistake my cock for a popsicle. This time." He laughed heartily.

"John! It's not funny!" She closed the curtain. Moved to the bathroom counter top to lean on it. "Damn it! This has to stop!"

"No. It doesn't. I love it, Moy! It gives me so much pleasure. You can't imagine how fucking wonderful it is. And then to take you after that...it's intense, right? We almost come at the same fucking time, Moy. Shit, I almost came in that lush mouth of yours. Did you like that?"

"No...not really," she admitted, blushing furiously.

"Huh?" He opened the curtain to look at her. "Not really? You should have said something, sweetheart."

She frowned. "I couldn't. My mouth was full at the time." He laughed. "Too full." He laughed again. "Seriously, John, I could have choked on that thing!" She pointed.

He laughed heartily, tears in his eyes. He closed the curtain. "Stop it, Moy, you're killing me!"

"It's not funny, John!"

He sobered with an effort. "Sorry, Moy. I'll try to be more careful next time."

"You...um...you seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah...that's the understatement of the year," he agreed. Rinsing off the suds now. "But if you are uncomfortable we can do it differently. Don't you worry, baby. There are lots of ways we can get off like that. Ways to make your toes curl. Ways to make my toes curl. Moira!" he exclaimed. "I think I had a toegasm too!"

She laughed. "Hilarious, John!"

He relaxed, waited. But she was silent. "Moy? Are you okay?"

"Yes, John. Just thinking."

"Oh oh," he muttered.

Moira watched him run the loofah over his body again. Turning this way and that. Muscles flexing. Suds sparkling in his dark hair. Water running along his body. He rinsed. Tilted back his head to rinse his hair. She walked over and pulled open the curtain to ogle him. "John, why do you like it?"

He looked over at her, turning the water off quickly. "Towel." She grabbed one, gave it to him. Watched him rub it on his hair, over his face. Along his body. She backed up as he stepped out of the shower. Using the towel to dry the rest of his body.

Moira backed up into the counter. Hoisted herself up onto it, swinging her feet off the floor. Watched him wrap the towel around his waist. Secure it. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Why?" she repeated. "Why do you like it?"

He shrugged. Moved to her. Touched her thighs and parted them to step between them. "I don't know." He kissed her. "You are in the way."

"Tough. Why? Why do you like being hurt?"she asked. Voice serious, full of concern.

"Not hurt. Just...um...stimulated," he decided on the right word, meeting her gaze. "You want to stimulate me now, baby?"

"No. Why?" she persisted. Touched his bare chest.

"I told you. I don't know. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me and just enjoy our exuberance. I sure do."

"You would," she retorted. "I don't want to hurt you, John. Or your ordnance. I mean, your back is lined with scratches and now your, your ordnance has a–"

"You won't hurt me, Moira," he interrupted her tearful tone. "I trust you. Completely. Those marks will heal in a day or two. They always do. Now scoot. I need to fix my hair."

"Can anyone tell the difference?" she quipped, earning a scowl. "Seriously, John...I...I don't know why I..."

"Sex, baby. Intense arousal," he explained, voice low.

"No. I mean yes, but no. It must be the, the pulse wave. The hormonal levels which are already elevated in my case because of the pregnancy and–"

"What, increases horniness? Whatever, baby."

"But, but the, the increased, um, aggression. In the other men it manifested in physical, violent aggression but in us it–"

"Becomes sexual because we are together," he finished for her. "Intensely sexual...maybe a tad more aggressive than usual, but we would never hurt each other, Moira. Never. I don't know about you but I like it intensely sexual. Exuberant. Passionate. You. Me. Don't you worry, baby. Everything's fine," he assured.

"Fine? We've been having sex every few hours, John! Repeatedly! We can't–"

He kissed her. A long, searing kiss. Tongue darting, inserting to tease, to tickle. His hand slid round to grab her rear. To squeeze until her mouth broke from his in a squeal.

"John!"

He laughed. "Pert little ass, baby. All mine." He pulled her to the edge of the counter. She gasped, grabbing onto his arms. He kissed her again, yanking the shirt out of the way. Freeing her to yank off his towel. "Hold on tight, baby! I'm about to rock your world."

"John? John, you...John? Oh John!" she enthused as he kept kissing her. Nibbled her throat. Nibbled her earlobe, gently pulling. All the while his hands freeing her rear to roam under the shirt. Sliding round to the front to grasp the neckline. To abruptly rip it in half, exposing her body to him. She gasped as the material tore. "John!"

He licked behind her ear to make her squeal, whimper. Shift on the counter, legs bumping his thighs. His kisses sloppily sliding down to her breasts as he cupped them, lifted them to his eager mouth. Moira arched, moaning as he sucked, sucked, nibbled to make her fingers tighten on his arms. He freed them, slid his hands under her to grab her rear. Thrust into her suddenly, rock hard and eager.

"John! Oh John! John! John!" she cried, his name escaping her lips in time to his powerful thrusts. Harder. Deeper. She leaned back as he lifted her, thrusting faster now. Rocking her wildy, yet carefully. Enjoying the feel of her as she clenched on him. Tight and hot. Gushing as he penetrated, penetrated. Bringing her faster, faster. The pleasure circling, circling. "John! John!" she cried in a stuttering whimper, the climax ramming into her, onto her. Pleasure pulsing in her, around him as he kept going. Her legs flew up, around him. Squeezing around him now as her grip tightened on his arms.

She blinked past tears as he slowed, slowed. Then abruptly angled, sliding faster now. Moira cried out as another orgasm shook her. As John shuddered, coming quickly. A few more thrusts and he freed her rear. Ran his hands up her bare back. Kissing her repeatedly as he eased himself out of her. As her legs freed him to dangle on either side of him. She tried to catch her breath. Gentling her grip on his arms. "John..." she whispered. Brown eyes wide.

He smiled. Ran his mouth up her throat to her ear. "Oh Moira. My Moira. That's how you fuck a paleozoologist."


	13. Chapter 13

Inhibition13

John carried his heavily laden tray to a table. Sat. Began to devour his food in big bites. He barely looked as Rodney joined him, annoyed expression on his face.

"My God! Are you eating for two now as well?"

John snorted. "Maybe. I'm starving!" he replied around a mouthful. "What's your excuse?" He indicated the equally laden plate of food.

"I've been working. Nonstop. Unlike you. I see you apparently escaped your lovey-dovey quarantine."

John smiled. Started on his second burger. "Yeah." John pictured his wife as he had left her. Sprawled naked in their bed, fast asleep. A smile on her rosy lips. Her hair a glorious tangle across the pillows.

"You have no idea, do you?"

John swallowed. Took a drink of water. "Of what?"

"Colonel!" Carson joined them, frowning. "What are you doing out of quarantine?"

"Eating," John replied.

"He has no idea," Rodney informed.

"Oh."

"Of what?" John repeated. Set his burger aside. "Well? Is someone going to tell me?"

"How do you feel, John?" Carson asked, assessing the man's appearance. Mood. Appetite.

"Fine. Wonderful. Fucking fantastic if you really want to know," he added smugly.

"Of course," Rodney stated. Rolled his eyes.

"And Moira? How is she?"

"The same, doc. Exactly. Why? What's going on?"

"Where is she?"

"In bed. My bed. Asleep." His gaze narrowed. "If you don't believe me go look for yourself. But you'll embarrass her the way I left her." He smiled. "She's fine. Happy. Trying to work out this pulse wave thingy but I told her not to worry. Why?"

"Why am I not surprised?" Rodney commented, glancing at Carson.

"Lucky bastard, as always," the doctor agreed.

"What?" John slammed his palm on the table. "One of you tell me now!"

"Another fight. But this one turned bloody," Rodney answered.

"A fight?" John asked, looking from one to the other.

"Between one of Lorne's and one of Reynolds' men. I've had to reinstate the quarantine with guards. Blood tests reveal unusually high endorphin levels and activity in the lower brain regions. Again."

"I thought this was over. Finished. A day, you said," John sourly accused.

"Apparently I was mistaken," Carson admitted with a shrug. "I took the liberty of scanning their brains and–"

"Surprised you could find them," Rodney quipped, but Carson kept talking.

"–certain areas are overly excited."

"Overly excited?" asked John. "What does that mean?"

"It means the neurons are overly excited, firing at twice their normal rate. As if the men were hyped up on drugs or adrenaline or both. Or alcohol. It's as if their inhibitions have been set loose. Their modifying controls on their behavior stripped away, as it were."

"Can you cure them?" John asked.

"I've given them sedatives, for now. Monitoring these men will take some time. What I find curious, colonel, is that you haven't exhibited any unusual aggressive behavior."

"That's because I've been with Moira. I would never hurt her," John stated. "If this is just a pulse wave affect why isn't it wearing off?"

"Good question. Why isn't it, Carson?" Rodney echoed.

Carson shrugged. "I've no bloody idea. You should all be fine since you are no longer exposed to it."

John considered. "What if we are? Still exposed to it, I mean."

"How? I've scanned the entire city! No pulse waves on any frequency," Rodney asserted.

"Can this be eradicated like the enzyme?" John suggested.

"No. It's far more insidious. Causing neurological symptoms that I can't just wean out of you, or treat with ordinary drugs. Because there is nothing in your systems provoking it."

"How badly were the men injured?"

"One's got a broken arm. The other a dislocated shoulder. Bloody noses, black eyes. We're just lucky they didn't have their guns with them."

"And why the hell wasn't I informed?" John flared.

"What could you have done, John?" All looked over as Elizabeth Weir joined them. "You've all been affected by whatever this is. Until we can find a solution all 'Gate travel is suspended and you are all restricted to your quarters until further notice. Even you, John."

"Except for Moira," Carson stated. "I need her help. Her knowledge of the sub-Wraith could be crucial here. She is the least affected so I can rescind her orders of–"

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?" Rodney questioned. "We have to get to the bottom of this! Those men could prove to be dangerous if they become any more aggressive! What's worse is that this could spread to other members of this expedition! It could spread to me!"

"I said no," John stated. "She is affected as the rest of us. Her behavior is somewhat erratic and I don't want her subjected to any more stress or–"

"No, she's not! You said a minute ago she was fine!" Rodney argued.

"She's fine now," John clarified. "She stays with me."

"Colonel, you are being ridiculous! I won't subject her to anything. I won't let any harm come to her. You are under quarantine so go back to your quarters, please," Carson stated. "I'll come by to fetch Moira and take her–"

"No. You are not taking her from me, Carson," John stated. Moving to his feet.

"John? Of course he's not taking her away from you!" Rodney exclaimed. "Who would want an erratic pregnant woman anyway? He merely–"

John lunged, grabbing Rodney by the throat and choking him. "Don't ever talk about my wife like that again!"

"John!" Elizabeth exclaimed, grabbing onto his arm. "Carson, help me!"

"John, he didn't mean anything by that! Fine! She stays with you!" Carson grabbed his other arm.

John freed Rodney. Straightened as his arms were released. He stared at Rodney who was coughing, rubbing his throat. Face purpling briefly. "Sorry, Rodney. I...I guess I am more affected than I thought."

"You think?" the scientist croaked. Glared.

"Go. Take Moira some food, John. I'll be by soon to check on both of you," Carson urged.

John nodded. Glanced at Elizabeth who was staring at him. Partly in concern, partly in disparagement. He shrugged. "Sorry." He moved away from them, grabbed a tray and filled it for his wife. Ignoring their stares and quiet conversation about him.

Moira stirred, reaching. "John...oh John! John?" She woke. Sighed. Sat to view the empty room. She moved to the bathroom. Cleaned up and dressed in a white t-shirt, jeans. Hearing footsteps she stepped into the room to see John placing a tray of food on the table. "John. Oh good! I'm starving!" She moved to him. "John?" She touched his arm. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Eat. We're back under quarantine," he informed. Sat at the table.

Moira sat next to him. Began to eat. Drank some water. "Why?"

"Still...I don't know...infected? Affected? By that pulse wave. Men are still fighting. The violence is escalating." He watched her devour her burger, the fries. He snatched some from her plate, ate them as she glared.

"Oh. And?"

"And? And they're exhibiting increasingly aggressive behavior. Like I said. Carson says he can't treat it. Yet. He wonders why I'm not...well, affected that way. But since I just tried to choke Rodney I guess I am."

"You choked Rodney?" She stared. "Well, John, you've always wanted to do that."

He smiled for a moment. "True. But this...it was a gut reaction to something he said. And Carson wanted to take you away from me but I won't let him."

"John?"

"What? I tried to explain, Moira. How I'm not affected like that because I am with you. Here. And I'd never hurt you. Remember? It's a sexual release for us. Very sexual. Very." He smiled at her, gaze roving over her body. Back to her eyes. "The only way to be free of the enzyme, right? Repeated sexual intercourse."

"It's not the enzyme, John," she chided. "It's a pulse wave." She ate more, thinking. "It must still be happening."

"That's what I said," he agreed, "but Rodney said it wasn't. He's scanned the entire city. At least he couldn't detect it." He touched her thigh. "I guess we are just going to keep having sex until we're clear, baby."

"Hilarious, John." She sipped her water. "What did Carson say about the–" A knock interrupted.

John stood. "Stay here." He moved to the door. Opened it. Scowled. "Carson."

"Carson, please! John, let him in!" She turned in her chair as John reluctantly stepped aside. Carson entered, moved to sit next to her.

"Moira, love, how are you?"

"Fine. I was just thinking of you. From what John told me the pulse wave is still happening, but how can that be?"

"Nary a clue yet, Moira. I wanted to show you this." He opened a data pad. Displayed two wavelengths on the screen. "This is brain activity on the enzyme. This is brain activity on the pulse wave. Do you see it?"

Moira stared. "They're almost identical."

"Aye. The key is almost. This here," he pointed, "indicates higher neurological penetration. The overly excited neurons firing at a greater rate. And look where they are, specifically."

"Penetration?" John stood behind Moira. Hands on the back of her chair. He leaned to whisper in her ear, "I always find that overly exciting. Don't you?"

She snorted laugh. "John!" She sobered. "The lower regions of the brain. The more primitive brain, as it were. Significance?"

"Chemical. Purely chemical, not physical."

"Scans?"

"Here." Carson brought up another set. "These areas."

"Hypothalamus?"

"Areas controlling emotions. Primitive brain reactions. Aggression, jealousy, er, lust." Carson glanced at John.

"Sedatives?"

"Temporary."

"Firing?"

"Continuously but increasing."

"Lower brain like the proto..."

"Exactly."

"Whoa! Stop the damn shorthand!" John snapped. Hands tightening on the chair. "I really hate that. It's like you two have a secret language! Do you?"

She glanced at him. "Of course not, John. Only you and I have that," she soothed. Looked at the screen, then Carson. "Only the lower brain, the primitive...because of the proto-humans."

"Yes," he agreed. Elaborated after a glare from John. "This species of Wraith, the sub-Wraith, are, or rather were unlike anything we've ever encountered. The Iratus bug was the same. But the host wasn't. Not even human, correct?"

"No. Not even remotely human. Hominids, but they never developed into modern humans. They were a side branch on the evolutionary tree that died out. Their brains were much smaller, much less developed than ours, but apart from that frankly we don't know much about them. An entirely new species of Wraith!" She glanced at John. "I told you! See? And now they're gone! A mass extinction at our hands. At my hands." S he glanced at her hands, as if expecting to see blood on them.

"And a good thing too, Moira. We did what to be done. Prognosis, doc?"

"That's just it, John. I don't have one."


	14. Chapter 14

Inhibition14

John and Moira stared at the doctor, rendered speechless for the moment. Stunned by the matter of fact words. The inability to find a cure, a cause, anything. "What do you mean, you don't have one, doc?" John finally asked.

"Just what I said," Carson replied. Sighed. "I've tried sedatives, stronger medications. I've tried some Ancient scans to modify brain patterns. But nothing seems to alleviate the affect. In fact the behavior is only accelerating."

"Accelerating? It's still accelerating?" Moira glanced at John. He was eying the screen, serious expression on his handsome face. His strong hands clenched on the back of her chair.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. And I don't know how to stop it."

"So what's next? I mean, more importantly what affect will this have on Moira and John junior?" John asked, glancing at his wife.

"None. Moira is much less affected than you are. Than the men are. I can take another scan to be sure but the Jumper protected her."

"But what is causing this now? Carson," she touched his arm, "it shouldn't still be happening! We're far from the source of the pulse wave. I mean, none of those things are running around Atlantis, are they? We...we killed them all."

"The Jumper." Both looked at John as he spoke. He met Moira's gaze. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Those things were crawling all over it before we left. Maybe they planted something onto it."

"We've scanned the entire city, John," Carson reminded.

"But not the Jumper." He straightened, tapped his earpiece. "This is Sheppard. Get McKay and a team to sweep Jumper One." He paused. "Moira, what are we looking for?"

"That's not possible, John! How could they devise such a, a device, and know to plant it on the ship? They were only using primitive tools and their limited cognitive abilities would preclude any sophisticated or premeditated–"

"Remember that power reading we had? So...what are we looking for?"

"Oh." She considered. "Um, something natural, not artificial. Crude, but, but maybe utilizing Ancient technology. But that's impossible!" she softly remarked.

"Sweep for any anomalies," he instructed. "Look for any attachments on the ship itself, on the hull or underneath it. Something natural, not artificial. Could be incorporating Ancient tech, and emitting a pulse wave. Not audible but physical. Use caution. Sheppard out. Moira, stay here. Carson, lets go find this damn thing."

"No, colonel," Carson advised, moving to his feet. "You need to stay here. I'll assist in the search."

"John, he's right," Moira agreed, catching his arm before he could protest. "You can't! If it is there you'll be more, um, affected." She stood suddenly.

He looked at her. Smirked. "Would that be such a bad thing?" He raised a brow.

She smiled. "Yes, colonel. I can hardly stand as it is." He laughed. She blushed, freed his arm and followed Carson to the door. "Be careful, Carson. This thing could affect all of you for all we know. I can't believe they had the, the sophistication to create something like that, not to mention employ it in a coordinated attack. It's...it's incredible. How could they develop that quickly, evolve that smartly in such a short space of time?"

"I don't know, love. That's your area, not mine. Stay here. The both of you." Carson glanced at John, left.

Moira closed the door. "It doesn't make sense. The ratio of their evolutionary development versus their technological progression. It's not right, John. Something's wrong. Something's off. Something..." She paused, staring at the wall. "John..." She gasped suddenly, realizations shattered as he grabbed her rear, squeezed, then swatted. "John!" She whirled.

He smiled. Tilted his head coyly as his gaze roved over her. "Whatever, baby. Don't I owe you a very thorough spanking? I seem to recall I do. I need to thoroughly spank that pert little ass blue, as I recall. And since it sounds like we are stuck here for awhile..." Suggestions sparkled in his brilliant green eyes.

"What? Focus, John! Don't get any ideas, sweetie! If you are right about this we will soon be back to normal. And if you're not..."

"Who says I want to go back to normal?" he teased. "Face it, Moy, this has been absolute bliss. You. Me." He stepped closer, backing her into the wall. "Constant and continuous sexual intercourse interspersed by pure, uncomplicated fucking."

She laughed at his tone, his expression, his words. "John!"

He kissed her. "Baby, let's make the most of this." His hands wandered over her. "As long as I can get it up and you can take it let's do it."

She laughed, hands splayed on his chest, gently pushing him back from her. "Really, colonel! I am shocked by your blatant lascivious behavior!"

"Really, doctor?" He raised his brows. "Have we met? I'm John Sheppard. The sex guy."

She smirked. "Don't I know it, sweetie. Wow. I mean...wow."

He smiled. Kissed her. "Wow? I think you can do better than that, baby, hmm?" He moved to kiss her when a voice pinged in his ear.

"Colonel Sheppard, copy? John! We've got it!" Rodney exclaimed. "It's amazing! An organic growth thingy with an Ancient power source, very tiny! I'm surprised it survived the trip at all, through the wormhole and then what? Carson says don't come out yet! We've got to deactivate it and what? Destroy it? Destroy it? Are you crazy? We could study the–"

"Rodney!" John interrupted the flow of increasingly emotional words. "Destroy it! That is a direct order!"

"What? No!" Moira echoed, tapping his chest. "We need to study it! Rodney's right! We need to–"

"I said no. Destroy it, Carson, or so help me I will come out there and do it myself!" he flared, gaze locked with Moira's.

"No! John!" she protested.

"Fine! Destroy yet another piece of valuable data!" Rodney snapped.

John winced as the earpiece squeaked. "Copy? Carson? Carson!"

"It's done, colonel. I'm keeping you in quarantine for another hour. To come down, so to speak. Just to be sure. Rodney and I can examine what's left of the–"

"Negative! Jettison it through the 'Gate to a deserted planet. That's a direct order too! Sheppard out." He saw Moira's glare. Shrugged. "Sorry. Not taking any chances, Moy. Not now." He considered. "What were you going to say? Earlier, I mean. About their evolutionary blah blah versus their tech blah blah?"

"Damn it, John!" She hit his chest. "What the hell are you thinking? Rodney is right! Once again you are destroying valuable data when we need to study it and figure out the–"

"I'm thinking of you and the baby you are carrying, Moira! That's all I think about, all right? Now, answer me. Well?"

"Well what, colonel? You are making any kind of prognosis impossible because you refuse to allow us to do our jobs! To study the pertinent data and evidence! No, instead you have to go all Alpha male and destroy what you don't understand!"

"Doctor, the only pertinent thing I want to study is that pert little ass of yours. Now answer me before I give you the spanking you deserve!"

"John! You...oh." She considered a moment. "Oh!" Her brown eyes widened in alarm. "John! That's it! It doesn't make sense. The ratio of their evolutionary development versus their technological progression! It shouldn't have been possible! They didn't have the intellect, the capabilities. Not on their own!"

"Ah." He frowned, thinking. Fingers tapping on her shoulders as he held her against the wall. "Crap," he realized. "You think, no. You know. You know they had help."

She nodded. Hands sliding along his chest. "Yes. But, but who? How? And why?" She sighed. "Someone's...someone's been to Pleistocene Park, John." Dismay.

He scowled. "Great. I can't have that planet compromised in any way. But who? How? And why? Why on Earth hasten their evolution and development?" he wondered. Smiled as her hand was snaking down to his crotch. "We can figure this out later, baby. We better have pulse wave sex just to be sure we're clear."

She smiled. "Okay, John. Hey, weren't you going to spank me? Spank my pert little ass blue?"

He smiled.

John eyed the two men seated across from him in the conference room. Both appeared guilt-ridden. Embarrassed. Still marred by their fight. Bruised. Battered.

"Sir," Jason said, breaking the terse silence, "I would like to apologize to Doctor Sheppard for any distress I may have caused her."

"So would I, sir...I said some terrible things to her which I deeply regret," Evan noted. Chagrin and guilt on his face.

"Yes, you did, major. But I trust that it's all now sorted after our little talk, isn't it?" John continued, without waiting for an answer. "As I told the other men I am going to let this one slide, for now. Due to being under the influence of a malignant pulse wave and all. Just another day in Atlantis." The men briefly smiled. "But if anything like this happens again I will take disciplinary action." John paused. Flashing on the erotic discipline he had enjoyed with Moira. Spanking her naked rear as she bent over the table. Her giggles and squeals. Turning to whimpers as the spanking had escalated into quite enjoyable intercourse. On the table. He shook the images away. "Is that understood?" he asked curtly.

"Yes, sir," they chorused. Eyed one another, clearly relieved.

"Now...as to Moira's status...for now she is assigned to team Sheppard."

"Team Sheppard, sir?" Evan asked, glancing at Jason who shrugged.

"Yes. Team Sheppard, being myself. I need her here, in the city, working on what just happened to us. Plus the sub-Wraith equation and rapid evolution. For now she only leaves this city if and only if I deem it absolutely necessary."

"Yes, sir," they chorused again.

"Dismissed. Oh, Reynolds, wait." John stood, watched Evan leave the room. Close the door. He looked at Jason who was standing behind his chair. "Pending any other developments the transfer you requested is still approved. Moira is on your team, but will not leave this city on any mission without my express approval."

"Understood, sir. Thank you, sir."

I'd like to thank you for defending my wife."

"I always will, sir. In any situation," Jason assured.

"Good to know. Dismissed."

John sighed. He headed for the infirmary. Walked over as Moira and Carson were arguing over a data screen. It was good-natured argument, a difference of opinion with no aggression or underlying threat. Just two scientists having a discussion. He relaxed. Sighed again, reluctantly nearing. "Progress?" he asked.

"Not yet, colonel. Without the actual device not to mention any tissue samples of the actual sub-Wraith all we have is pure conjecture! We have no idea how they progressed to that level, or even what level that was since the device is destroyed and gone! We–"

"We had no choice, Carson!" Moira argued. "It was too dangerous. We can successfully extrapolate the data from the readings Rodney took before it was destroyed, and the Jumper's own scans recorded the sub-Wraith before they...we..."

"Extrapolation will only get us so far, Moira. We needed that device to determine the level at which the sub-Wraith had progressed and the power transmissions that were affecting the men. At this rate we are just building castles in the air!"

"We are not! We can determine the facts from what little data we have and we can even possibly get tissue samples if we venture to–"

"Doctors!" John interrupted. "Do what you can with what you can. No one is going anywhere to collect anything! Is that understood? Moira, a word. Please."

She sighed. "Fine." She followed him to a private corner. "What is it, John? There's a lot of work to be done."

"It's handled. Don't you worry," he said quietly.

"What? Oh. You mean...I...I was going to talk to them and–"

"No. Don't. To either one. Like I said, it's handled. Leave it be, Moy. Please."

"Okay, John. If you really think that's the best–"

"Thing, yes. I do." He touched her arm. "Trust me, Moira. Just leave it be. I've taken care of it. Of everything. And don't you worry. About anything. About what we did. What we had to do. To protect our child." He glanced briefly at her abdomen. Met her gaze. "To protect you. I'd do anything, Moy. Will do anything to protect you and our son. As will you." He kissed her. "Now that get that pert little ass to work, baby, unless it's too sore."

She smiled. "Sore enough, sweetie. You and your rough handling." But she kissed him. He smiled, winked at her. Left. Moira watched him leave. Thinking over his serious words. His assertions that they were the same. Would kill to defend their child. At any cost. At all costs. That John had already killed to protect her. Would do so again if necessary.

She realized in that moment she would do the same for him. Knew what she had to do if that nightmarish future came to pass. Moira knew what she had to do to protect John.

She would have to kill Evan Lorne.


End file.
